Avoid, Deflect and Redirect
by Quinis
Summary: A painting containing valuable CIA information has been stolen. General Beckman has tasked Carmichael Industries with its recover it. They'll have to work with New York's White Collar division. And a revived spy or two who insist that their secret be kept.
1. Chapter 1

** Author's notes: **This story takes place a few weeks after the series Finale of Chuck and after White Collar season 3 episode 'Checkmate' since they aired the same month according to Wikipedia.

**Additional Author's note/disclaimer: **This is the first story I've ever created a cover for. The cover is designed to look like the painting stolen in this story and, in order to recreate an image that looked like the painting, I had to copy and manipulate two images which are not mine.

First, the background of the cover was created using a photo taken by **Boris Mrdja**, named **Montenegro startrail**. They have given me permission to post this image even though they don't usually allow manipulation of their photos. Check them out on **deviantART**; their photos are amazing!

The ship image in the cover also comes from a deviantART user: King Kummerton. The image is aptly called 'ship' and located in their scraps.

Aside from those two images, the rest of the cover is my own work. The image manipulation and text additions were all done by me, using Microsoft Word.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The Nazi treasure had been found, again, and Keller was behind bars, again. New York's White Collar division considered it a win, even if their favourite cop and robber team were on the verge of breakdown.

And then a one-of-a-kind painting vanished from a residential apartment overnight. It wasn't an ordinary painting either, as the owner was a CIA agent charged with protecting and analysing it. This was not common knowledge. What was common knowledge was that the owner had strong-armed the FBI into working with 'their' security team.

* * *

A little warning would have been nice. Maybe then, Neal wouldn't have been completely unprepared for when Chuck and Sarah walked through the door. Instead, he could only duck his head behind the computer screen and hope they don't speak to him.

Sarah barely spared him a glance as she stormed off, obviously not happy about working with the FBI. Neal hadn't been happy about it at the start but, he had grown to like the work and the agents. Peter was smart and could keep up with him, Diana could give as good as she got and Jones was a grounded voice of reason.

The bad part about picking the desk near the entrance was that it was often the first desk that people spotted. And, sure enough, Chuck chose to walk over to his desk and start talking to him.

"Excuse me." He shouldn't have looked up. But, he hadn't been able to resist and Chuck ended up getting a good look at his face.

Chuck's eyelids fluttered as he flashed and his whole manner changed from uncomfortable to shocked.

"Bryce?" he questioned in a harsh whisper, "I thought you were dead!"

"Not here!" Neal whispered back. He stood up and began walking down the hall. He found a secluded spot where they could talk between rows of files.

"What are you doing here, Bryce?" Chuck asked with his voice low.

"First, Chuck, my name is Neal Caffrey. Secondly, I'm undercover!"

"In the FBI?"

"Originally, I was investigating another agent's disappearance." He had been placed in prison days after healing because Kate had requested an audience where she broke up with him; their code for trouble. He had looked into her disappearance, witnessed her death and gotten wrapped into her case. And now Neal Caffrey was up for commutation, after which he would have to leave this life behind for his next mission.

"Okay," Chuck said in a drawn out way, "and how did that go?"

"Well, I ended up in possession of a really awesome Nazi treasure, only to give it up to a killer who kidnapped my partner's wife. Now my partner's mad that I had it in the first place and I don't know how to make up with him. How about you, Chuck? What have you been up to lately?"

"I lost the Intersect, got it back, in-between which Morgan and Sarah ended up downloading it and it did massive damage to their minds, had to win over my wife again and saved General Beckman's life. Oh, and now Bryce Larkin has came back into my life."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Neal said, feeling slightly hurt that Chuck would put it that way.

"No," Chuck responded quickly, "it's not a bad thing. Just an annoying thing because no one thought to tell me."

"Undercover," Neal repeated, hoping that Chuck would catch on that he wasn't allowed to contact them. In addition, contacting Chuck was like sending up a flare that he was alive which would put everyone Neal Caffrey knew in danger.

"Fine," Chuck pouted.

"We should probably think of a cover story for why we're back here," Neal pointed out as his phone began to ring. "One sec."

"Neal." It was Peter. "There should be a Charles Carmichael somewhere in the office. You think you can take him to see the crime scene?"

"I think I could do that," Neal responded confidently, "but, what about my anklet?"

"Stay with Carmichael and it shouldn't be an issue," Peter responded, "and you'll report whatever you find to Jones."

Neal hung up and found Chuck looking at the screen of his phone.

"Says I'm supposed to work with Neal Caffrey," he said, "and that Sarah'll stay here and work with Agent Burke." He smiled and showed Neal the message. "It also says that I'm to watch myself because he's a known forger and conman."

"What can I say," Neal responded with a shrug. "I'm that good."

* * *

Peter didn't like working with people outside of his office. Most were untrusting and weren't as interested in solving the case as they were interested in keeping and forwarding their own careers.

And there were those he had unpleasant histories with. Ruiz was one. Rice was another; he certainly wasn't going to trust any of his people to her again.

Shaw. He really didn't like Shaw. Revenge messed people up and Shaw certainly was an example of that.

But, none of them would cause his heart to stop the way it did when Sarah Bartowski walked through the doors of White Collar. Her husband, this was Peter's first time actually seeing the man instead of a photograph, stood listlessly behind her.

Their eyes locked. He could see the moment of recognition on her features, the surprise and anger. His chest hurt in remembrance of the last time they met. It had ended with her stabbing him through with a knife.

"This is an FBI office and we're in plain view," he informed her in a level voice as she stormed into his office. The calm was easy to call on when his blood started rushing and he spent so long as Peter Burke that he sometimes forgot that he had another side, a deadlier side. "You do well to think before you act."

"Kieran Ryker," she hissed, her hand twitching. She had hidden weapons which she could use to kill him but, he knew she wouldn't act just yet. Not unless he gave her a reason to. "How are you still alive? I stabbed you myself."

Peter sighed.

"And didn't your husband shoot Shaw?" he asked, rhetorically. They both knew he had and they both knew that Shaw survived.

He motioned for her to take a seat.

"Look, about what happened with the baby," he said, "Shaw contacted me and I was expected to do something. If I hadn't, it would have been suspicious and he would have attempted to track me down."

"So?"

"I have a wife," he stated, "and a life here. My main mission has always been infiltration of the FBI. I pass information, get undercover agents out of scrapes and cover up things that we don't want people to know. Sometimes I take other missions, like the one in Budapest where I was your handler, but mostly I stay here and live Peter Burke's life."

Sarah didn't know what to say to that. This man in front of her was different to the handler she knew. Then again, he was a CIA trained spy.

"You tried to kill me," she reminded him, "and what about the baby?"

"Shaw contacted me," he repeated, "I was expected to act. I acted. Taught you a valuable lesson too."

"What was that?" she asked haughtily.

"Trust your team," he responded in a serious tone, "don't go running in without any backup just because you don't want anyone to know your deep dark secrets. It'll get you killed."

Her only response was silence, because he was right. She had almost gotten herself killed. But, she still didn't know whether she could work with this man.

"The mission in Budapest, it was CIA sanctioned. But, it was a covert operation. If we got caught, they would deny all knowledge of us. That's why they told you it wasn't when you decided to check. The CIA couldn't officially say that they were planning to kidnap an heir to a massive fortune," Peter explained. He needed her to trust him, if only a little, so he added, "if you had handed her to me, I would have brought her home to my wife and we might have raised her. Or we might have handed her over to someone else. Either way, it was better than handing her over to the CIA. You realised that too."

"They couldn't guarantee her protection," Sarah said. It was why she had handed the baby to her mother because the CIA didn't know about her and the baby, her little sister, would be safe. "Say I believe you, now what?"

Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

"You can't tell anyone that I'm CIA of course," he said, "no one here knows that I work for the company and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Fine," she responded, sitting back and crossing her arms. "But Chuck will recognise you on sight."

"There's a way around that," Peter said and he pulled out his phone to call Neal. He didn't know why she was so confident of that, but he didn't want to risk a confrontation with the man who tried to kill Shaw.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Chuck tried not to sneak glances at his old friend but it was difficult. He hadn't thought he would ever see Bryce again, not after the Ring agents shot him and then dragged his body out of the Intersect room all those years ago.

It didn't help that he had a frustrated and miserable expression on his face as he stared out the window.

"Something wrong?" Chuck asked, risking another glance.

"Eyes on the road," Bryce warned him in a flat voice that didn't seem to match his usually good-natured friend.

"Sorry!" Chuck turned back to the road and back to his musings about what was worrying his friend. "You're not mad that I'm here are you?" he asked.

"What?"

"I mean, obviously I wasn't supposed to know that you were alive so you're mad that I found out."

"No," Bryce responded in a strong tone. He lifted his head from where it was resting on the window and turned to him in surprise. "I wasn't allowed to contact you, that's all. Do you really think I'd be mad seeing you again?"

Chuck tapped his fingers on the steering wheel apprehensively. Bryce caught on quick.

"You did!" he said in an offended tone, "I can't believe you. We were friends so why do you-" he stopped, suddenly aware that it wasn't just Chuck he was scolding.

Why do you always assume the worst of me? He wanted to say that to Peter. To his handler and, somehow, friend. Neal wasn't a bad guy and his tenancy to break the law actually stemmed from Bryce's skills and methods while working for the CIA.

He sighed and placed his head back on the window.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said in a completely honest tone. Bryce closed his eyes as the words washed over him. They were calming in a way that he hadn't felt in years.

"It's okay," he responded, feeling tired. He didn't think he was up to playing the perfect conman in front of Chuck. Chuck was one of those people who wouldn't be fooled by it. "So, what's this case about anyway?"

"'Case'?" Chuck questioned with a smile. Bryce glared at him.

"Mission," he corrected.

"Of course," Chuck said, still smiling as he described the mission/case, "Amber Blackman is a cryptanalysis with the NSA, she specialises in decoding hidden communique. She goes by the pseudonym Black Joy."

"I've heard about her," Bryce responded, "she's supposed to be one of the best."

Chuck paused a moment before responding.

"Yeah."

"What?" Bryce questioned, glaring at him again. He could sense that Chuck was keeping something from him. For all his experience with lies and lying since entering the spy life, Chuck couldn't lie when he didn't see a reason for it; he only lied in order to protect people.

"When Casey shot you," Chuck said hesitantly, "your stuff was sent to her to examine. General Beckman insisted on it. At the time, she insisted on it because she wanted to know who you were working with."

"And now?" Bryce questioned. He wasn't too worried about it as he didn't really have anything of worth to hide.

"Well, Amber Blackman theorised that your painting held a secret."

"My painting?" Bryce repeated in a deadpan tone, wondering which painting it was. He had made many paintings over the years, although most were painted over later and none, except a few forgeries, were sold.

"That's what Beckman said," Chuck mused, "but I haven't seen it yet."

Bryce snorted. If 'his' painting had been stolen, then Chuck probably wouldn't get to see it.

* * *

Amber Blackman's apartment was old, brick and musty. It was on the fourth floor of the building and number 46 in a long line of faded and ugly citron green doors. Neal tried not to shudder as he walked around this place. He had spent his time in a few hell-holes but, at least he was guaranteed an eventually exit. He couldn't imagine living somewhere like this for years.

"I can't believe someone living here owns a painting worth a federal investigation," Neal sighed.

"Be nice," Chuck warned. He recalled how critical Bryce could be able some people's living arrangements. During his time at Stanford, Chuck himself had been scolded by Bryce many an occasion for not keeping their room clean and for leaving things on the floor.

"You sure Black Joy lives here?" Neal questioned, plastering a smile to his face and shoving his curled up hands into his pockets.

Chuck glanced over at his friend, a man deep in an undercover role, and wondered if Bryce knew how to turn Neal off. After many years, Sarah was more comfortable with Sarah and he wondered if Bryce was getting comfortable as Neal.

"This is the location the CIA has," Chuck responded, knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" a strong female voice demanded to know.

Chuck glanced back to Neal for a moment wondering, hoping?, whether he would take over. Neal just nodded at him to answer the woman.

"Charles Carmichael," he responded.

"And your friend?"

Neal raised an eyebrow, wondering how she knew there were two people outside. He was certain he was standing so that he wasn't visible from the peep-hole.

"Neal Caffrey," he responded, "consultant for the FBI."

Amber opened the door. She appeared to be around their age, even if she was dressed in slightly older fashion.

"Please, come in," she said, tugging at the sleeves of the pink cardigan she was wearing. Her blond hair was frazzled and tied up in a messy ponytail. Her thick-rimmed brown glasses barely hid the fact that she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

Her apartment was spacious, if only because there didn't appear to be much in it. Aside from the standards which came with an apartment like this, she had a desk covered in papers and notes and a large cork-board attached to the wall.

"Okay," Chuck said. While he was used to spies living light, he didn't really know where to start. He had expected Sarah to be with him at this point. "Uh, how about you talk us through what happened?"

Neal smirked and Amber nodded.

"I, uh, I brought the painting here to look at overnight," she explained, "I placed it on my table and was about to get to work when there was a knock at the door." She moved towards the door, acting out her movements from that night. The wall for the kitchenette and the entrance kept the desk out of view from the door and vice versa. "It was a mistaken delivery man, he had the right apartment number but the wrong apartment building. After coming back in after helping him, I found the painting gone." She threw her hands up in the air. "I don't understand how they did it! I was standing at the door the whole time!"

"There aren't any other ways in?" Chuck asked, looking around.

Amber shook her head while Neal walked towards the desk.

"Chuck, help me with this," he said, pushing the desk away from the window. Chuck nodded and grabbed the other end.

Neal nodded to indicate when they could let go, pulled on a pair of black gloves and then opened the window. It went up on the inside and the outside was covered with standard iron window bars.

But, as soon as he let go, the window dropped.

"The latch is broken," Amber informed them as she fiddled with her phone. "It won't stay up unless you stick something under it."

"Did you have it open the night of the theft?" Neal asked. Amber shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Chuck asked, seeing the contemplative look cross Neal's face.

"The latch is broken," Neal repeated in a lecturing tone, "this means it won't stay up but, with this kind of latch, also means that it can't be locked properly. So someone could push it open from the outside."

"That's not possible," Amber said defensively, "there are bars on the window!"

"And a fire escape outside," Neal pointed out, "it's old but still functional."

"Neal," Chuck said in a warning tone. Unlike Peter's it was more a whine than a demand.

"Building inspectors don't know about it, got it," Neal responded in a sigh, "but that doesn't mean other people haven't noticed." With that said, he opened the window again and held it with one hand as he pushed at the bars with the other. They fell off with a clang against the old metal fire escape stairs outside.

Amber's mouth dropped open.

"You'll notice how I didn't open the window all the way," he said, letting it drop closed. "Allowing me to bypass that little trigger you've set at the top of the window. My guess is that it's only trigged if a whole person tries to pass through, because to do so they'll need to open the window the whole way, but not if a hand or arm passed through. Which is all they need in order to take a painting off your desk."

"I, I like to open it sometimes," Amber stammered in shock, her voice high. She was only just realising that the system she set up to protect her work had fatal weaknesses. "I put a book there to hold it open and let the breeze and the sounds of the city outside in while I work."

"It's okay," Chuck said in a comforting tone, "you couldn't have known."

Amber shook her head and rubber her palm into her forehead. While Chuck tried to be reassuring; Amber was worried about how this was going to affect her job, Neal called Jones and asked for an evidence crew to check out the window.


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3**

* * *

The painting stolen was known as 'Ship in the Sky'. Thankfully, Sarah had Amber Blackman's notes regarding the painting and a picture a picture of the painting as well. The background was painted in small brush-strokes that created a whirling image of white on dark blue, similar to a time-lapse photo of a night sky. A little to right the right of the centre of the whirl was a ship. It looked like an old pirate ship, just without a flag, and was done in such fine detail that it almost looked real. Like a ship in a bottle; the bottle being the night sky. It was captivating but also haunting, reminding Sarah back when she was a child and dreaming of adventures with her father.

Peter found the picture of the painting just as interesting but was more interested in getting the painting back. So, he was trawling through Amber's notes, trying to find something that might help.

"She thinks the painting is hiding something?" he finally commented, "what could it be hiding?"

"No idea," Sarah responded, "but there must have been a reason." She turned another page and froze.

Peter caught the lack of motion quickly and was quick to interpret it. This was something that affected her emotionally.

"What is it?"

"It's not relevant to the mission," she responded, glaring at the wall and not at him.

"Don't trust me?" he asked, his mouth twitching a little. He didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. Spies should never give trust easily. Today's friend could be tomorrow's enemy and vice versa.

But, you still needed people who you could trust with your life.

"Have you heard from Neal Caffrey yet?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Jones will tell us if they find anything," Peter responded.

"I can't believe you sent Chuck out with a conman," she said in a slightly disgruntled tone.

"Neal won't hurt him," Peter responded, "he's non-violent."

"There are other ways to hurt someone besides violence," she reminded him, "violence is just the easiest."

Peter bit back annoyance. She was right but, she didn't know Neal. Even though his actions had led to Peter's wife being kidnapped, Peter still believed his potential.

Neal had given up a multi-million, possibly billion, dollar treasure for Elizabeth. He had worked just as tirelessly as any of the FBI agents and had helped Peter work the con which had bought enough time for El to escape.

And he had gotten injured in the process. El was always quick to point out how Keller was the only one who she blamed for the kidnapping. She had also voiced her pride when Peter had told her that Neal had been willing to confess, right before he revealed that Keller had taken all the blame.

Not that Peter had mentioned any of this to Neal. The kid actually appeared to be considering the consequences of his actions for once, in hindsight but still, it couldn't hurt to let him squirm a little.

* * *

Sarah worked in silence with Ryker at the other end of the table. He had finally given up trying to get her to talk, or so it seemed. It didn't matter either way as she was highly suspicious of any words he said and hyper-aware of any action he made.

The files detailed some information about Bryce's life. She hadn't expected it to hurt, reading out her ex's life like this; detailed in black and white and not feeling like a person at all. And she had known he had been keeping things from her, would have been surprised if he hadn't, but she hadn't expected this.

The painting, 'Ship in the Sky', had actually been painted by him. Amber had the painted dated sometime around 2005 and then, under polarised light, the first letter of his first name and his last name appeared on the canvas like a signature.

Sarah hadn't known that Bryce could paint. He had been really good at it too, if this painting was any indication of his skill.

"Okay, so our thief, or thieves, must have known that the painting contained a secret," Ryker was talking again, "which means that Amber told someone about it or they have clearance to see her reports."

"Possibly," she responded, keeping her head down.

Ryker sighed.

"I know you don't like me but, would you be willing to work exclusively with me on this?" he asked.

"What?" She looked up. His face was set in a serious frown, his hands were folded before him and he was looking at her. "Why?"

"I don't want my team involved in this any more than they already are," he said, he flourished a hand over the notes as he continued, "I don't even have the name of the person who owned the painting before it was sent to Black Joy. This is high clearance stuff, which means the person who stole this painting could be dangerous. More dangerous than my people are used to."

"You don't want to risk them?" she guessed, feeling a little faith settle in her heart. A little doubt concerning her previous judgement of Kieran. She hadn't thought of him as someone who wanted to protect others until now.

"No. I don't. We keep them out of this and we solve it quickly."

She nodded. They sounded like agreeable terms. She hadn't wanted the White Collar team involved in the first place but, they had to play by the rules here.

"There's nothing wrong with me working with you in order to recover the painting and make an arrest. I'll edit out any confidential information in my reports. But, I do have a few conditions.

"First, I want to know why Black Joy was looking into this painting. There may be a clue there. Second, I would like to work on this after hours. Which means I'm to inviting you to my house."

"You're what?" Sarah's mouth dropped open. She instantly thought that this was some kind of trap.

"My wife has wanted to meet one of my 'other' co-workers for a while now. You're here and circumstances allow it and I'd much rather introduce you to her than someone like Roan Montgomery." Roan Montgomery was a seduction specialist and he was also around Ryker's age. He was an okay guy but not really someone you wanted to introduce to your wife.

"You want me to meet with your wife?" she questioned, uncertain whether she understood him correctly.

"My wife would like to meet you. You can bring your husband," he said.

"I'm not bringing my husband," she responded with certainty. If this was a trap, she wasn't going to let Chuck walk into it too.


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4**

* * *

Neal and Chuck stayed at the apartment as the evidence team came and went. During that time, Neal checked the place over in case his theory was wrong and Chuck continued to chat with Amber.

"I got a picture of the painting," Chuck said to Neal after the team had left. He handed him the small photo.

Neal took one look at it and cursed.

"Chuck, this is my painting," he hissed quietly.

"Yeah. General Beckman ordered your belongings to be searched and examined," Chuck gently reminded him.

"No, you don't get it. This is my painting," Bryce said, shedding his cover as Neal now that they were outside Amber's apartment. "I painted it."

"Oh," Chuck said in sudden understanding, "then I guess it doesn't hold any secrets?"

Bryce shot him a disbelieving look which seemed to ask, 'are you kidding me?'

"Chuck, it's me. Do you really think I'd paint an original piece just because?"

"Maybe?" Chuck responded uncertainly. Bryce smirked; it seemed Chuck wanted to have some faith in him. "No," he amended a moment later. Then he flashed a nervous smile. "Am I at least going to like this?"

"Oh, Chuck," Bryce said, slinging an arm over Chuck's shoulders. "You're going to love this." He used their close proximity to whisper quietly, "the painting works like a fingerprint, the brush strokes on the canvas unlock a lock to Neal Caffrey's hidden stash."

"Neal Caffrey's hidden stash?" Chuck questioned, not really convinced about why he's supposed to love this. They pulled apart as Bryce explained;

"See, as Neal Caffrey, I sometimes had to steal and con things away from bad men and women," Bryce explained, "and sometimes those things couldn't be returned for some reason. Maybe they used their ill-gotten gains to legitimately purchase whatever I needed to steal or we couldn't return it without risking my cover. Those things are stored in various locations but, the biggest collect by far is hidden beyond the door which that painting unlocks."

"So, this is like a hidden treasure?" Chuck questioned, his eyes lighting up as he connected the dots, "is this a treasure hunt?"

"Possibly," Bryce responded. Then memories of the Nazi treasure hit him and he couldn't hold back a sigh. He really didn't want to deal with another treasure, even if it was his own.

"Something wrong?" Chuck said, "I know they have your painting but, it isn't like they know where the treasure is."

"I'll start with the obvious," Bryce responded, "there are clues in the painting which lead to the door it unlocks." It had been a combination of hubris and wanting the items to be found in the event that something happened to him. He hadn't made it easy though.

Chuck blinked.

"Cool," he couldn't resist saying.

"But, I just got rid of the last treasure I found," Bryce complained, explaining what else was 'wrong'. It actually felt good to complain about it for once. Peter saw him as enjoying every minute of his big score and Mozzie wouldn't understand if he had said he didn't want it. Because, he had wanted it, just a little. But, not enough to ruin his life here. "And, take it from me, Chuck, having a treasure is the most stressful thing ever."

"So, not even a little fun?" Chuck questioned, holding up his hand with a gap between his finger and thumb.

"It's a little fun," Bryce admitted after a pause, "especially when you're standing in the same room as it. You feel like a kid for a few moments and it's such a rush but, it just isn't worth it in the long run." He lost Peter's trust and hadn't really seen El since the kidnapping was resolved.

"Why not?" Chuck had a long list of things he would do if he had access to a treasure.

"People died because of it. And it's affected my position at the FBI."

"I don't get it," Chuck responded with a tilt of his head. "I mean, I get the people dying part, I wouldn't want treasure someone's willing to kill for but, how does it affect your position at the FBI? They already think you're a conman."

"Yeah, but they didn't hate me for it," Bryce responded, feeling a pang in his chest like someone stabbed him. He really didn't think losing Peter's faith in him would hurt so much until it happened.

"What? I'm sure they don't hate you."

* * *

Chuck had never seen Bryce like this. He had his head tilted slightly down, staring at the ground away from them and biting his lip.

Bryce had never worried if someone hated him before. He certainly didn't seem to worry if Chuck hated him. Now he was acting like it was the end of the world because the FBI hated him?

And then a moment later, it seemed to vanish. Bryce stood straight, smiled and flipped his hat onto his head.

"You're right," he said, "I'm really getting a little too worked up about it. I guess I don't like the idea of thieves taking my rightfully stolen goods." He smiled at Chuck and it took the latter a moment to realise that it was supposed to be a joke.

It was in that moment that Chuck realised that this Bryce right here, the one that smiled when he didn't mean it and hid things under jokes and misdirection, was a cover. The person he had seen up to now had been more real.

He was trying to figure out what he could do to help, to fix what it seemed he broke, when Neal's phone rang.

"Jones? Yeah, the evidence team's packed up. They found signs that someone opened the window from the outside but, no fingerprints." A hurt expression flashed across his face for a moment before he spoke again with his smile back in place. "Yeah, I can do that. No problem." He hung up and turned to Chuck. "Peter wants me to take you back to whatever hotel you're staying at."

"Huh? What about Sarah?" Chuck questioned in confusion. Surely she would have contacted him if there had been a change in plans? But, she had sent him off, effectively splitting them up.

"Maybe she's going to meet you there?" Bryce suggested. He could read the unconvinced look on Chuck's face and asked, "how do you normally do these things?"

"Well, we're partners," Chuck responded, "normally, we're either together or try to be in direct communication the whole time." He frowned worriedly.

"Give her a call then," Bryce suggested.

Chuck nodded. That seemed like a good plan. Ever since the thing with Quinn happened; Sarah kidnapped, forgetting about him and him trying to make her remember, finally remembering him but not loving him and then loving him again in the end, he was discontent whenever she wasn't by his side. He was worried and wondering if it was going to happen again. The last time had almost broken him; the fight to get her back had been long and heartbreaking. He had failed her over and over during that time and he didn't think he would survive if it happened again.

"Chuck?" Her voice always calmed him down. "I thought you would be heading back to the hotel by now?"

"Uh, yeah." He swallowed before continuing, "am I meeting you there or something?"

"No. I'm meeting up with a," she paused for a moment, "an acquaintance, in order to work on the mission."

"Without me?" Wow, he sounded pathetic.

"Sorry, Chuck. But, this guy hasn't met you and I want to keep it that way. For your own protection." Chuck really hated those words. He could protect her, if he was by her side, right?

"But-"

"Look, how about you go back to the hotel, maybe contact Casey or Morgan, check on the Buy More and watch a movie? I'll be back before you know it."

"Uh, yeah." It was all he could think to say. She sounded so reasonable but, this was sending his anxiety levels through the roof.

"Everything okay?" Bryce suddenly asked, causing Chuck to jump in fright.

"I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Bryce managed to convince Chuck to go to June's with him instead of returning to the hotel, which hadn't been difficult as Chuck needed to get his mind off whatever Sarah was doing.

It had confounded Bryce as well. He couldn't think of who this 'friend' could be. It certainly wasn't him, although he had entertained the notion a little but, she didn't know he was alive yet.

"I thought she could trust me," Chuck lamented as they climbed the stairs to Neal's apartment. Bryce had already explained that he 'rented' the place from June and that he hadn't told her about his side activities as a spy. "We were working on it. Telling each other little things and rebuilding our trust in each other."

"You don't trust each other?" Bryce questioned as he pulled out a fine bottle of Chardonnay wine.

"Well, we trust each other with our lives," Chuck responded in a non-nonchalant way, "but, it's the little things, you know? She skims over details when I ask her how she's been. We don't talk anymore and, if we do, I'm the one initiating it. She offers to cook and just gets the food brought in, which wouldn't be a problem except she lies about it to me."

"Ouch," Bryce responded, taking a sip of his wine.

"Got any advice?" Chuck asked earnestly.

Bryce chocked on his wine and coughed.

"Are you kidding me?" he wheezed, "my last girlfriend dumped me because 'we're different people'."

Chuck's eyes widened.

"Isn't that part of it, though?" he questioned, "I mean, Sarah and I are very different people-" Bryce held up a hand.

"I've heard the speech, thanks."

They sipped in silence for a few moments before Chuck commented, "I always thought you were the kind of guy who could get any girl he wanted."

"It's not getting the girl that's the problem," Bryce responded, "it's keeping her. You seem to be doing okay with that, seeing how there's a ring on your finger. Or is that a cover too?"

"No," Chuck responded, his hand fiddling with the silver wedding ring on his hand. "It's real. We're married."

"You're married and having problems?" Bryce questioned. It wasn't like he hadn't heard of it but, they had been in love with problems when he last saw them. Their love had been enough that everyone could see it; enough that Sarah had turned him down in order to stay with Chuck, but they were fighting it for some reason.

Bryce downed the last of his glass and poured another, topping up Chuck's as well. It was going to be long night.

* * *

Sarah stepped out of the taxi and stared at Ryker's residence. Or the Burke house, if she thought of it like everyone else did. An ordinary townhouse in New York, the exterior was even painted white.

Feeling nerves flutter in her belly, she walked up the steps and knocked on the door. To keep calm, she mentally went though the list of weapons she hid on her person.

"If anything happens to me," she said as soon as Ryker opened the door, "Chuck gets a message with everything written in it."

Instead of looking annoyed or acting pleasant, he just sighed and moved to let her in.

"Is she here?" an excited female voice called down the hall.

"Yes, hon!" Ryker called back.

Sarah was surprised to see a woman with long dark hair and bright, curious eyes bounce into view. For a moment, she was reminded of Ellie, Chuck's sister.

"Hi!" she greeted with a smile. "I'm Elizabeth Burke, Peter's wife." She laughed and then added, "but, I guess you know him as Kieran Ryker, huh?"

Sarah nodded and pulled up a pleasant mask. She could play the gracious guest.

"Sarah Bartowski," she introduced herself.

The was a quiet 'woof' from up the stairs and a large, golden dog came patting down the stairs. It looked like it wanted to jump at Sarah, choosing instead to curl around her legs until he reached down to pet it.

"That's Satchmo," Ryker said, "he's not allow to jump on guests."

Married with a beautiful home and a pet dog, the only thing missing was;

"Why don't you have any kids?" the question burst out of Sarah's lips before she could stop it. She realised what she said a moment later and gasped, covering her mouth as she apologised. Ryker quickly excused himself to the kitchen, leaving her with the wife.

Elizabeth took her hands in hers and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Have people been asking you about that?" She made a sympathetic noise as she guided Sarah down to the dining room.

Sarah felt her jaw drop a little; how had she known? She wasn't exactly right but, it was close enough that it was scary. It was like she had seen through her in that one moment.

"No," she responded as she sat down. Ryker brought them wine as he opened his own beer. "But, there's a picture Chuck drew and it was something I forgot about until I found it again." She glanced over at Ryker. While his wife might be a comforting presence, his was not. She took a moment to pull herself back together. "But, that's not important. I'm interested to know how a civilian ends up married to a spy."

Elizabeth and Ryker exchanged looks before she spoke.

"Well, I thought I was getting an FBI agent, not a CIA and FBI agent rolled into one," she started.

* * *

"I failed her," Chuck said, after he finished telling Bryce about the events with Quinn. "I couldn't protect her, I let her get hurt at the hands of that megalomaniac and I failed to bring her back."

Bryce frowned and then growled.

"Bullshit. You didn't fail. She's still by your side, isn't she?" Chuck's gaze slid to the seat next to him, as if he expected Sarah to suddenly appear there. "Even after Quinn, you've been able to go through your day with her by your side and work missions together. Tomorrow morning, you'll be able to hug her, kiss her and reaffirm your love for each other."

"She hasn't said, 'I love you,' once to me since then," Chuck said, but his voice was a little stronger than it had been before.

"But, she's still there," Bryce said, "and she'll say it again someday." Bryce had seen it himself; whether she could admit it or not, Sarah was in love with Chuck.

Chuck mumbled something under his breath.

"What?"

"I miss..." Chuck cleared his throat before speaking again, "we haven't been intimate since then."

It took Bryce a moment to understand that. When he did, he laughed.

"It's not funny!"

"It is!" Bryce responded before sobering enough to add, "but, that's probably a good thing. It's probably better for you two to get your feelings sorted out beforehand."

"What about you?" Chuck asked, as he was tired of talking about himself and his relationship issues.

"What about me?" Bryce raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Uh, that last girlfriend," Chuck said, trailing off as he realised he didn't know how to phrase what he wanted to ask.

"Her name was Sara," Bryce said and then proceeded to spell it out, "S. A. R. A."

"Oh. She's not blond, is she?"

"No," Bryce responded in an offended tone.

"Okay."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments.

"We should talk about the case," Bryce suggested.

"Mission," Chuck corrected as he nodded his agreement.

"That's what I said."

* * *

Peter looked over the files again with fresh eyes.

"Is it possible that whoever stole the painting knew that Bryce Larkin had this Intersect?" It was Elizabeth who had made the suggestion as she collected the dishes. "It sounds like something that people would want to get their hands on."

"If they knew that the painting hides something," Peter mused.

"The Intersect is imaged-based," Sarah added to the theory, "so, either this painting contains information only the Intersect can decode or-"

"Or it either leads to something about the Intersect."

"Bryce was in charge of the Intersect 2.0 project before his death," Sarah explained.

"Maybe we need to start there," Peter continued, "look into anyone who knew about the painting and who knew Bryce Larkin."

"They'd have to be in New York during the time the painting was stolen too."

"Unless it was a hired job. Neal has a guy who can look into that but, I'd really rather not get them involved."

"If it was a hired job, our underground contacts would have heard about this," Sarah countered, "I'm thinking whoever did this did so with little outside help."

Peter nodded in agreement.

"We located the delivery guy and he said that he only delivered what was ordered, so he might not be a part of this," he added, "just a guy doing his job. But I did have Agent Jones pull camera surveillance from the streets around the building and we can check those around the time of the delivery."

Elizabeth watched them discuss and decided to put on a pot of coffee. She had feeling they would be working late into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

First thing in the morning, Neal walked into Peter's office.

"Peter, about the painting-"

"The one from yesterday's case?" Peter questioned, barely looking up from his computer.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about it, the security team are tracking it down for us," Peter responded.

"Really?"

"Yeah, looks like you won't be needed for this one. And I'll handle an arrest when they locate the thief." Peter smiled like this was good news.

Neal felt something coil and squirm in his gut. Yes, he had come up to try and get Peter to pull out of the case since the CIA was involved but, he hadn't expected Peter to cut him out. He had done it so easily too, as if Neal had more to work on than cold cases, and worst of all, he had done it without talking to Neal first. He hadn't even suggested leaving the case to the security team the previous day.

Neal found himself wondering what he did wrong, only to recall Elizabeth getting kidnapped by Keller because he had a priceless treasure.

His decision had gotten her kidnapped. When he told them about what his asset had done, the CIA had placed two choices on the table: turn the treasure in for processing or use it to track and bug criminals. With the growing practice of paying for arms in priceless art, the Nazi treasure would have made a great way of tracking arms dealers, terrorists and the like.

He had picked option two, worried that turning the treasure in would somehow blow his cover to Peter and Mozzie. All he thought he had to do was place a few bugs on the paintings before Mozzie sold them and send his share of the money back to the CIA. But the manifest had complicated that plan; it really would have been nice to have known about that before he made his decision, and he was left trying keep his cover intact and Neal Caffrey in New York.

There was always a price to pay for bad decisions.

* * *

Chuck's eyes were swimming. His job was to look at image after image of people moving in, out and around the building where Amber Blackman lived, to scan the surveillance and see if he recognised or flashed on anything. It was tiresome and dull.

Especially when he was itching to know where his lovely wife had been the previous night.

"Whoa," he breathed as Sarah walked out of the bathroom dressed in a sky blue blouse and black pencil skirt. Oblivious to his admiration, she moved to stand before the mirror and work her hair into something that could pass for a bun. "What's the occasion?"

"I'm meeting someone for coffee," she responded, checking that everything was just-so.

"Who?"

"Hmm," she thought about what to say before saying it, "just another woman married to a spy. She wants to talk."

Chuck perked up at that; he loved meeting new spy couples!

"Really?"

Sarah smirked at the interest in his voice. She also knew how dull his current task was but, there was no one else who could do it. She walked over to where he was sitting and planted a kiss on his lips.

"We're meeting like two normal women," she said, "which means no husbands."

Chuck mused on that for a moment, slightly dazed by the kiss. There had been something different about that one, something light. It lacked the heavy weight which seemed to be pressing itself over their relationship lately.

"And before you go getting any ideas," Sarah added, "she might not be a spy but, she does know how to catch a tail. And her husband is a scary guy who doesn't want spies following his wife."

"You wouldn't let him hurt me," Chuck said pleasantly and with certainty.

"It'd be better if there was no reason for him to come after you in the first place," she responded on in a slightly scolding tone.

Chuck just nodded in response. He was used to people coming after to him by now and knew that sometimes it just happened without being his fault.

"Stay in the hotel room Chuck," she told him before she left. Chuck rolled his eyes in response, even though she couldn't see it, and turned back to the surveillance.

* * *

Neal knew that his days in the White Collar division were numbered. The result of his commutation hearing had already been decided. On that day, Neal Caffrey would be free and Bryce Larkin would get a new mission. But, leaving while Peter wasn't talking to him didn't feel right.

He moved silently down the rows of files, looking for the ones relevant to the current cold case Peter had placed on his desk for him to look at. Diana was also there, looking for something.

She thought she was alone, until he reached over and pulled a file from before her.

"Neal!" she cried, jumping back in fright.

He paused with a fleeting thought wondering what he had done now.

"Where did you come from?" she asked him, quickly recovering her cool.

"Peter's been wondering that for years," he quipped in response, knowing that the FBI didn't have anything on Neal Caffrey before his eighteenth birthday. It made him an enigma and a mystery, someone worthy of interest. "What would he think if I just told you?"

"Not what I meant," she said with a smile.

"I think I solved the case I've been working on," he said, "I just wanted to check a few things." He motioned to the folder in his hand.

She moved to leave but paused.

"Peter says that we're no longer working the painting case," she asked, "any idea why?"

The words felt like a stab to his gut. It made sense as Peter passed the case to the security firm but, why? He didn't know the security firm was CIA and so it was just a routine, slightly more stimulating than mortgage fraud, case to him. The only explanation he could come up with was that Peter didn't want them working it for some reason. Like, maybe because Neal Caffrey; the man who brought Keller into his life and had gotten his wife kidnapped, would be working with him. Maybe this was some kind of punishment.

"You okay?" Diana asked when he didn't response.

Neal tried to get rid of those thoughts. They weren't working that case, which was what he wanted, so it didn't matter why and it didn't matter if Peter didn't like him.

"Yeah," he responded. Except, it did matter. For some reason, what Peter thought of him was important.

What could he do to get his trust back?

Neal's phone rang moments later, like an answer from heaven.

"I flashed," Chuck reported, "I know who stole the painting."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Chuck took a breath before explaining, "his name is Sidney Ward and he's something like a thief-for-hire but worse. He steals secrets for profit. He's been on the CIA watch list for ages, ever since he stole sensitive information from Omaha."

"Why would someone who steals secrets be interested in my painting?" Bryce questioned quietly, ducking further back between the shelves.

"I don't know," Chuck responded, "but, maybe he wants your stash?"

"Or someone else does," Bryce theorised, "while my stash of not-quite legal items isn't common knowledge there are CIA analysts who know about it."

"Huh?"

"Their job was to track down the original owners of the stuff and, if possible, quietly return the items. When I 'died' for the second time in 2009, the General ordered the project to be put on hold. The plan was to revive it as soon as 'Neal Caffrey' was finished with the FBI."

"Four years," Chuck mused and then realised something, "but, your commutation is coming up."

"Yeah?" Bryce questioned, not yet following.

"Which means that they've got less than three months before the project starts back up," Chuck explained and Bryce realised what he was getting at.

"Whatever their plan is, they were running out of time to execute it."

Chuck made a noise of agreement through the phone.

"This is good," Bryce said, feeling energised by the progress, "what does Sarah think?" The pause on the other end was not encouraging. "Chuck?"

"I'm not sure," Chuck said slowly, "she came in late, or early, last night with a bunch of security videos. I spent the whole morning looking at them until I flashed."

Bryce guessed that Sarah wasn't there, otherwise Chuck would have just asked her the question instead of telling him about how little they were talking.

"And why didn't you call her?" he asked.

"She went out to lunch with another wife, a normal woman married to a spy," Chuck said, his voice stinging with something like guilt, "and I didn't want to disturb her because she rarely gets moments of normalcy."

"Who's the spy?" Bryce asked because, again, it wasn't him.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

* * *

Sarah tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear as she slipped into the seat across from the dark-haired Elizabeth. The confident New York woman had ordered two glasses of red wine, one each, while they waited for their lunch.

It wasn't coffee; more like an early lunch.

Elizabeth greeted her kindly and they quickly began chatting about their husbands.

"Oh, Kieran was so nervous when he told me that he was also CIA," she giggled, "he didn't let it show, but his hands were twisting in his lap as he told me."

Sarah raised her eyebrows and she couldn't imagine Kieran Ryker ever being nervous.

"He looked me straight in the eye as he said it and then told me that I might be in danger because some villain could come after me. He thought the person he was chasing at the time had found out about me."

"What happened?" Sarah asked.

"Turns out it was a bluff, they were just trying to rile him up," she responded, "and it worked in the short-term but, long-term, it just made him more determined to chase them down." It had only taken Kieran a weekend to track them down and arrest them and she had been so proud of her strong, FBI and CIA husband.

Their meal arrived and it wasn't until Sarah was partway though that Elizabeth brought up her question the previous night.

"I think Chuck wants a child," she said, "his sister has a child and I've seen the way he looks at her and there's that picture he drew of us with the house and a baby but, I'm still trying to reorganise my memories and feelings into something that makes sense and I no longer feel ready to take that step."

"And you haven't spoken to him about it?" Elizabeth guessed.

Sarah nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'm sure he would be okay with it but, I don't think I could stand to see the crushed look on his face. And I don't want to bring the subject back up since we already spoke about children." Sort of. Chuck drew the picture and she remembered smiling and feeling content but now she felt lacking and completely unready, the thought of children enough to cause nerves to churn in her gut. "And our jobs are so dangerous, I'm not certain we can handle it."

Elizabeth offered her advice, although she couldn't comment on raising children in a spy environment when she didn't have any. She didn't feel the need to have children and Kieran was okay with that.

They were enjoying their chat and just relaxing before paying the bill when Elizabeth's phone rang.

"Hi, hon!" Elizabeth greeted him. She paused for a moment before holding the phone out out to Sarah. "I think this is for you."

"Hello?" Sarah said cautiously into the phone.

"Sorry to intrude on your time together but, Chuck's just walked into the office."

"What?" She had already told Chuck that they were working without the FBI. "Why?"

"I don't know," Kieran responded, "I haven't asked."

"'You haven't asked'?" she repeated a little harsher than she intended, "why not?"

"I thought you didn't want me to meet him?" Kieran responded, sounding unsure.

She hadn't but, she hadn't expected him to stay hidden just because of that.

"Are you sure it's not because you don't want to be recognised?" she countered.

"No. Although I would like it if he didn't blurt out my affiliation in the middle of the office." There was a pause before he added, "he's speaking with Neal. I thought I said I didn't want my team involved in this."

"Alright," Sarah sighed, "I'm on my way."

* * *

Peter sighed as he hung up. He felt a little like a coward, calling for Sarah's help with removing her husband but, he didn't think Chuck would listen to him. The last time he had been involved in Sarah's life, he had been the bad guy. It had been an act for Shaw's benefit because he would have known if Kieran hadn't done anything and El, his FBI team and Neal would all have been in danger.

So, Chuck probably still thought of him as the guy who tried to killed his wife and that was not a good impression to have; this was the guy who was a legend in the spy world and Peter had no illusions that he would get off easy for trying to kill Sarah.

While waiting for Sarah to arrive, he had sat down and started glancing at reports that needed completing. But, there was a knock on his office door.

He sighed and stood up and moved to open it, noticing one thing on the way. Neal and Chuck were gone.

He cursed Neal and whatever he was up to now as he opened the door.

"Hey, Peter," Neal said, innocently with Chuck standing behind him. Oblivious to the tension Peter felt towards Chuck and Chuck's gasp of surprise, he kept talking, "Agent Carmichael has a few leads he wants to follow up."

Peter spotted his name on Chuck's lips and his heart jumped.

"First, come in," he said, moving out of the way.

Neal gave him a curious glance but moved to do as he said when Chuck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Chuck?" Neal questioned.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He really wouldn't be silly enough to expose an agent in the middle of an FBI office. Or would he?

"Just, come in," he repeated, feeling a headache forming. This would be the second time in as many days that he would have to explain himself. "We'll talk."

"Just talk?" Chuck questioned suspiciously.

Peter held up his weaponless hands and stepped further back. Neal gave them curious looks as he walked in and kept watching as Chuck hesitantly followed him in.

"You're the one Sarah met with last night," Chuck realised quickly.

"That's right."

"You tried to kill her."

"What?" Neal gaped.

"Sort of. I fought seriously but I wasn't trying to kill her."

"Then what do you call it?"

"Putting on a show," Peter responded in a tense voice, explaining again about Shaw.

"Hold it," Neal interrupted. It took him a moment to figure out what to ask and his question was not what Peter expected; "how do you know Shaw?"

"How do you?" Peter asked suspiciously, feeling a thorn-like stab in his heart. He didn't believe that Neal had anything to do with espionage, the Ring or Shaw's plots but, he had been in the life long enough to know that he should suspect everyone.

"Oh," Chuck suddenly said with an air of realisation.

"What?" Peter and Neal asked simultaneously.

"You haven't noticed?" Chuck questioned. They were both spies with the CIA.

"Noticed what?" Peter asked impatiently.

"Bryce Larkin of the CIA," Chuck said, pointing to Neal, "and Kieran Ryker, also of the CIA." He moved his pointing finger over to Peter.

Neal blinked uncomprehendingly. Peter frowned.

"So, you're saying, Peter's CIA?" Neal questioned uncertainly.

"I flashed," Chuck said with a nod.

Peter twitched and sighed.

"So, Neal is not only a spy but, the guy who painted the very painting we're currently chasing down?"

"Yes," Chuck responded.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: **Sorry about the lateness of this chapter, it was intended to be uploaded last night but, (as followers of 'CIs vs Agents' might know) I was without internet. We (my family and I) only managed to get it back late this morning - a little before lunch. So, we were internet-less for over 24 hours. Since the problem is in the wiring, there's a chance that this might happen again. They're sending out a tech to look at it in the second week of April. Until then, there may be other instances of this.

We're still with Peter, Neal and Chuck as they try and figure out what's going on. Peter and Neal are trying to wrap their heads around their partner also being CIA.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

"Bryce Larkin from Connecticut. Was my roommate in college, joined the CIA in 2002 and stole a computer filled with government secrets before sending it to me. He has a Level Six Clearance and was Agent-In-Charge of the Intersect 2.0 project until his second untimely and prematurely confirmed demise.

"Kieran Ryker. Deep cover agent and former handler of Sarah Walker. In 2006, his files were buried in order to protect his cover identity from exposure and he extracted himself from handler duties. Also expressed fears of an internal struggle in the CIA, how did you know that the CIA was experiencing an internal struggle?"

"Gut feeling," Peter raised an eyebrow as he responded, a silent question on whether he could speak. Chuck had enforced a 'no speaking' policy while they tried to sort out what was going on here.

"Never bet against the gut," Neal added.

Peter gave Neal an incredulous glance. The ex-conman; _secret agent?_, seemed to be taking this with appeared acceptance and a mask that didn't let him see how he really felt about it.

He wondered just how much of what he knew about Neal was real. Trying to separate the cover and mission from the man gave him a headache. And it was... discerning that this man had been able to get so close to him and he never noticed.

And then he had a moment of panic as he realised that Bryce Larkin, the guy who stole the Intersect, dated Sarah Walker and was an accomplished spy with a higher ranking than himself, was sitting across from him. Bryce Larkin had been working with his people and had his own desk near the entrance.

"Peter?" Neal questioned, tilting his head slightly and Peter realised that his panic had shown on his face. "Look, we're on the same side."

"That doesn't mean anything," Peter responded and was surprised to see hurt flash on Neal's face. "I've let you into my house, introduced you to my wife and it turns out you're a spy? It just shows how I can't afford to let my guard down." Except that he already had. But, that was for Neal Caffrey, not Bryce Larkin. He didn't know Bryce.

"That's not fair," Bryce responded, tossing Neal's hat onto Peter's desk. The small smile vanished from his face and he glared at Peter. "I've worked for you and risked my life for you. I trusted you," Peter flinched at the calm venom in that as did Chuck. "Don't sit there and scold me, when you've done the exact same thing!"

"Bryce," Chuck said in a reminding tone, holding out his hands and motioning for the agitated man to sit.

* * *

Bryce sat and took a moment to school his features into a neutral expression. The only sign of his agitation were his arms, crossed over his chest.

This was the reason for Chuck's 'no speaking' policy. To moderate their emotions and stop them from possibly killing each other. Not that Bryce could imagine that.

His face flushed slightly with embarrassment as he realised that he probably couldn't kill Peter; or Kieran, or even shoot him. He was too emotionally compromised to even think about hurting him.

All he could do was have faith that Peter's noble traits, the reasons he had trusted the man, were also a part of Kieran Ryker. If not, he could always request an immediate transfer and Neal Caffrey could run.

And it hurt. He had trusted Peter and now he finds out that Peter wasn't even real, but a cover identity for another spy.

"What?" he asked Chuck who was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, when Morgan found out-"

"Seriously?" Bryce interrupted in a flat tone and a smirk. "You let Morgan find out?"

"He found Castle!" Chuck responded, "and it was a good thing anyway. I got my best friend back."

Bryce raised an eyebrow, a motion Peter also made.

"That's all it took?" Peter asked.

Chuck shrugged and nodded. There had been some fighting and taking down the bad guys who had infiltrated Castle, the reason Morgan had found it, but it was mostly not keeping any secrets from Morgan which had allowed them to become best friends again.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Chuck spotted Sarah entering the office. With Elizabeth right behind her.

"What's she doing here?" Bryce questioned.

"I called her," Peter responded, not even looking up from the report he had begun working on.

Bryce and Chuck shared a look.

This wasn't going to end well.

"Chuck," Sarah greeted, opening the door to Peter's office.

"Hi, hon," El greeted. Peter quickly put his work away to respond to her. "Neal."

"El," Bryce responded with a wave, slipping his Neal persona back on with a smile.

"What the? Bryce?" Sarah said, her voice rising and holding a hint of annoyance when she said his name.

"Sarah," Bryce greeted, just managing to hide a flinch. She glared at him and then at Chuck.

"Sorry!" Chuck said, "I didn't get a chance to tell you." She raised an eyebrow. Surely, he could have found time to mention this? A 'hey, you know Bryce is still alive?' would have only taken a moment. Chuck buckled under the glare and slumped his shoulders. "You were keeping secrets," he mumbled.

"And so you decided to keep this from me?" she questioned. Chuck nodded and she sighed at Neal. "I suspect you have something to do with that?"

"I may have asked him to keep it a secret," Bryce responded with a light shrug. "But, I didn't ask him to lie to you."

"So, Neal's a spy?" Elizabeth guessed.

Sarah, Chuck and Peter all stared at him; it looked like he would have to introduce himself. He stood up and walked over to El.

"Bryce Larkin, CIA," he said. El's eyes slid over to her husband and he decided to add, "Peter didn't know and I didn't know about Peter."

"How do two CIA agents get assigned to the same FBI office?" El asked.

"Now, that is a very good question," Bryce said.

"It probably has to do with how I was already stationed here, giving Bryce a way in as Neal," Peter pointed out, "the rest is just a result of the limited information spies are given when on a mission."

"What?" Chuck questioned.

"Our positions are 'need to know' and we didn't need to know," Bryce translated.

"Oh."

"Well, that's stupid," El commented, attracting bewildered stares from all the agents. "If we had known that Neal was an agent then Peter wouldn't have to worry about him cutting his anklet or stealing a painting or anything else."

"Actually, if anything, you should be worrying about him getting shot," Chuck pointed out.

"Not cool, Chuck," Bryce said with a glare.

"What did he do, jump in front of a gun?" Peter quipped and, embarrassed, Bryce shot him a glare. The first time, with John Casey, had sort of been like that. But, he had been injured, tired and was trying to send the Intersect while escaping a heavily guarded facility.

Peter looked surprised at his response.

"You didn't, did you? I mean, I've seen you pull some stupid stunts-"

"I didn't!" he responded. He had jumped off a roof, into Casey's sight, but hadn't been shot until he started moving. So it didn't count.

"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else," El said, coming to Bryce's rescue. He gave her a grateful glance.


	9. Chapter 9

** Chapter 9**

* * *

Peter requested the rest of the day off for him and Neal and then marched them all out of the building. Sarah and Chuck took a taxi while he drove El and Neal.

The drive would have been silent, if it wasn't for El.

"So, Neal, when did you join the CIA?" she asked as soon as Peter pulled out onto the road.

"Hon," Peter said in a warning tone.

"What?" she responded, innocently, "I already know so, why can't I ask?"

"I'll answer if you tell me how you two met," Neal said from the passenger seat. Peter hadn't wanted him sitting behind them and, in his words, wanted him where he could see him.

"You already know that," Peter responded in a grumble, "and I'm not telling it again."

Neal shot him a glare and then turned back to El. She was less likely to lie to him, considering she wasn't a trained spy.

"He's right. Peter didn't tell me he was CIA until we were married," she said.

"Fine," Neal said with a theatrical sigh. He decided to believe them. Besides, he knew as soon as he answered her question, they would both have more. "I was recruited during my junior year at Stanford."

Neal and El jolted forward as Peter slammed on the breaks, trying to avoid hitting the stopped car in front of them.

"Careful!" Neal warned in fear.

"What?" he questioned, "you went to Stanford?"

Neal smirked. Just as he thought, Peter had more questions.

"And here I thought you knew everything about me," he taunted. It was somewhat of a nasty thing to say but, he couldn't help it. Peter didn't trust him, Peter lied to him and he had to go along with whatever he said in order to keep cover.

"I know everything about Neal Caffrey," Peter responded, something unidentifiable in his voice, "and next-to-nothing about Bryce Larkin."

From the back seat, El glanced between them. Something had changed. She didn't know what or if it was a good thing but, for the first time since the treasure and Keller, they were actually talking about themselves. Sharing.

"What was it like at Stanford?" she asked, hoping that Neal would be willing to share that.

"I assume it was like college," Neal responded cheekily, "but it was fun, for a time." And then he frowned, a shadow crossing his face.

"Okay," Peter said, sensing the need for a change of subject, "so the painting stolen is one of yours, ironically enough."

"That's what happens when you paint to hide government secrets," Neal pointed out. He was still proud of the things he had pulled off as Neal Caffrey, the impossible and unbelievable. Besides, he had only taken things, not lives, and so the end justified the means.

"Tell me more," El prodded as this was interesting. She wondered if Neal would be more willing to share the spy life than Peter was. If she could get him to watch over Peter, in the FBI and the CIA, then maybe she could rest easier at night.

"Can't. It's confidential stuff," Neal responded before changing the subject to the people of the White Collar office. He jokingly theorised which ones might also be spies, drawing Peter and El into the conversation in order to keep them from asking any questions about his past.

* * *

Peter led them into the house and into the basement. Sarah clutched at her gun nervously while Chuck stayed close to her. El just smiled and Bryce watched everything with veiled curiosity.

Peter pressed his hand to a plank in the wall and, a moment later, it slid up.

"A secret door," Chuck squealed. Like Chuck, Bryce was highly impressed although he didn't show it.

"I'm supposed to be stationed here for a long time," Peter explained as they walked through a short, metal tunnel. "So, they set me up with a base, named 'Homestead'."

"You called a secret base 'Homestead'?" Bryce said disapprovingly in the same way Neal insulted Peter's suit and ties.

"What did you call yours?" Peter asked, turning to face him. Bryce's lips twitched.

"I don't have one," he grumbled, "they didn't think I'd be here long enough and then they said that I proved I would be okay without one until commutation."

"Peter's fine with sharing," El said, placing a hand on his shoulder while Peter made disapproving squeaks. This was his secret base! And it was really only one room.

It was an octagon-shaped conference room with a single computer terminal and screen, along with a table just big enough to seat them all and an armoury decorating the back wall.

"Wow," Chuck said in praise, "think I could get one of these?"

"You already have Castle," Bryce reminded him, "if anyone here's getting a base, it's me."

"And what would you tell Mozzie?" El asked him, effectively giving him pause.

"Mozzie wouldn't know."

"Now, you can't guarantee that," Peter said, sitting down.

Bryce was silent for a moment, considering this.

"Fine. I'll just use your base then."

Peter gave him a scolding frown which he ignored. If either of them closed their eyes, they could almost imagine they were back in the FBI conference room, talking over the latest case. Really, the feelings of familiarity were enough for Bryce to overcome the awkwardness of being under the Burke's house in a CIA base and for Peter to overcome the feeling of having Neal sitting across from him in his CIA base.

Peter's scolding frown turned to a curious one. Until know, he hadn't thought of adding Bryce Larkin, CIA agent, to the list of things he knew about Neal Caffrey. But, he found himself adding it.

Neal Caffrey is also Bryce Larkin, CIA agent.

* * *

Bryce thought he was used to a life where everyone hid under assumed names. He just never thought Peter Burke, FBI, would be one of them. Let alone that he was Kieran Ryker, Sarah's old handler.

Small world.

Earlier he felt betrayed, now the words 'small world' seemed to sum it up nicely. He was okay with it.

"So, what secret does the painting hold?" El asked him with rapt attention.

A smirk danced over his lips.

"Wait, hon, didn't you already suggest that it was connected to the Intersect?" Peter commented.

El looked over at him and held his gaze as she explained, as if she was talking to a child;

"I did, but now I can actually ask. So, no need for guessing."

"What do you mean, 'connected to the Intersect'?" Bryce questioned, glancing at Chuck who shrugged. It was the first time he was hearing this.

The painting had nothing to do with the Intersect.

"We assumed that you hid something related to the Intersect in the painting, since you did send it to Chuck," Sarah said.

"The painting leads to-"

"Chuck!"

"Where Bryce stores the stuff Neal Caffrey steals," Chuck continued, Bryce's cry not enough to sway him from explaining.

"Allegedly! Allegedly!" Bryce chanted, glancing over at Peter. Whether he was also CIA or not, Neal didn't give up information to the FBI easily.

"Sorry," Chuck said and the repeated it all again with the word 'allegedly' in-between. Bryce didn't miss the way El's and Peter's lips twitched into smiles. Meanwhile, he was mortified.

"Alright," Peter said, holding up a hand to stop anyone else from interrupting. "So, our thief is either after Neal's stash or believes the painting has something to do with the Intersect."

"We came up with the theory that they're running out of time," Bryce pointed out, motioning between himself and Chuck. Peter cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning 'why' and Bryce explained, "Neal Caffrey's commutation is coming up. After that, I'm back in the worldwide spy game."

"I flashed on one Sidney Ward," Chuck said. They took a few moments to check into Ward's file, during which El decided to go back upstairs, and quietly ponder their next move.

Bryce started fiddling with his hat, twirling it unconsciously as he thought. He could use Mozzie to contact Sidney Ward but, he didn't want to use Mozzie for this. It was too close to his spy identity for his comfort. Jimmy the Snitch wasn't a good choice either, no one told him any good information unless they were a fed looking to trap a criminal.

His hands stilled and he pondered those words; 'trap a criminal'.

They didn't know whether Sidney wanted Neal's stash or the Intersect but they did know that he wanted the painting.

"But, he already has the painting," Chuck pointed out.

Bryce smirked and, across the table, Peter found himself mirroring it.

Peter knew that look as Neal's, 'I have a plan', look.


	10. Chapter 10

** Chapter 10**

* * *

Two nights later, Kieran Ryker easily slipped into the art museum. It helped that Bryce had given him the specifications of the security and the guards' rounds.

"I can't believe you can pick locks," Bryce complained through the comm, "Mozzie had to teach you that!"

Ryker snorted. He remembered Mozzie's lessons. Mozzie had run him through criminal lessons; like picking locks and picking pockets, so that he could play Neal Caffrey for a sting. He had purposely made beginner's mistakes and not focused so that he wouldn't appear proficient at any of it. While not as good as Neal Caffrey, he still knew the basics of lock picking and could pick a pocket in his sleep. They were part of the basic spy skill-set.

But, they weren't part of FBI agents' skill-set and faking the lack of skill and been more tiring than he expected.

"It should be in the East Wing," Sarah explained, "Chuck, you still behind him?"

"Yeah," Chuck whispered and the only reason Ryker could hear him was because of the comm. Chuck was supposed to stay hidden as his backup inside the museum.

"Try not to get caught," Bryce reminded him in concern, "the CIA signed off on this op, but it won't do your cover any good if you're caught breaking in."

"Is this another version of the 'be careful speech'?" Ryker quietly quipped, putting a slightly offended edge to his voice.

"I didn't say 'be careful'. Did you hear the words 'be careful'?" Bryce responded in a very Neal-like way. Over the past few days, it appeared that they had decided to keep using their cover personalities around each other.

It was certainly easier than trying to figure out exactly what Kieran Ryker and Bryce Larkin were supposed to be like, especially when working with each other.

Ryker stepped quietly into the East Wing. He mindlessly slid past the paintings adorning the walls as he already knew what he was here for.

"Why couldn't I do this?" Bryce sighed, his voice travelling through the comm. He already knew the reason but, Sarah felt that she needed to remind him.

"We don't know what information Ward has stolen in relation to this painting. He might already know what you look like. And he might also know what I look like. Peter's the only one who has a rogue history."

Ryker's eyebrows rose at the sound of his name. It was surprising to hear it come out of Sarah's mouth. He thought she hated him.

"'Peter'?" Bryce asked her.

"If you marry under a name, then it's yours," Sarah explained abstractly.

"I don't think it works like that," Bryce said slowly.

"Sh!" Ryker hissed into the comm. He sensed movement.

He paused and waited, watching a man step out of the hall and walk towards the painting. He was broad-shouldered and didn't appear too muscular. Put a pair of glasses on him and he could pass for a professor or something. Ryker figured he could take the guy in a fight.

But that wasn't his mission. He emerged from the shadows.

"Hey. That's the painting I have my eye on," he said in a level voice which El often told him sounded 'gravelly'.

Sidney Ward, Chuck confirmed the guy's identity with a nod, paused before turning to face him.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a low tone, like some kind of disgruntled accountant.

"Actually, you can," Ryker said, "step away from my painting."

"My painting," Bryce grumbled through the comm.

"You didn't paint this," Ward said. It appeared that the decision to not have Bryce do this was a good one.

"I didn't say that," Ryker responded, "but I'm going to take it and that makes it mine."

Ward snorted and shook his head.

"What?" Ryker questioned, "you think you're better for it?"

He moved forward as Ward pulled out a gun, jumping out of the way of his first shot. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it and jabbed a hand into his stomach as his other hand moved to grab his arm. He twirled and kicked the man behind the knees, sending him sprawling on the ground.

"My painting," he growled victoriously into Ward's ear as he pinned him to the ground. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't knock you out and leave you for the guards to find? They'd pin this on you and I'll be out of the country before the day's over."

"My client will pay you double whatever you think you can get for it," Ward said.

Ryker paused, as if considering this.

"Triple," he said.

"Double or nothing," Ward responded, "you're not going to find a better offer."

"Oooh, now that sounds logical but, we'll see." He pressed a card to the man's forehead. "Call me if you want to deal." He pulled out zip ties and tied Ward's hand to the leg of the nearest chair. The man fought him every step of the way, but Ryker was stronger than he looked and didn't get up off Ward's chest, didn't allow the man to get a proper breath, and the nearest chair was actually right next to them so that it gave a good display of the paintings to whomever sat in it.

With that done and Ward spitting curses at him, Ryker took the painting off the wall and walked out. He did leave Ward a knife to cut himself free, just within his reach as long as he stretched.

* * *

Bryce's mouth was hanging open from the display. He had painted a forgery of his own painting and Sarah had used CIA resources to arrange a display for it. The idea was that Sidney Ward would see it and wonder if the painting he had was a fake. Either way, they were betting on him having to check as there was no one qualified to authenticate the painting, except Bryce himself. Bryce's knowledge and experience as Neal allowed them to come up with this plan because, as Neal, he would steal the second painting just to make sure. Allegedly.

He also added that his authenticating skills were good enough that he could tell if something he took was real or not so he had never needed to do that.

But, wow. He had never seen Peter act so immoral before, not even when he had posed as 'Neal Caffrey'. Although, Peter didn't have to go undercover as criminals since he had Neal Caffrey working for him so, maybe Bryce just hadn't the chance to see it.

"I'm going to tail Ward when he leaves," Sarah said. Bryce nodded his acknowledgement.

"Remember to check in," he said. She gave him a disgruntled look; she knew how to do her job, before jumping out of the van and melting into shadows. She was really standing down the street, leaning on a tree and looking like she was fiddling with her phone.

"So, what did you think?" Ryker asked as he jumped into the van with Chuck climbing into the driving seat.

"I could have done better," Bryce said.

"That's because you don't use violence," Ryker responded, placing the bag holding the painting down on the floor. "We needed to scare him."

"If you have a good enough con, then you don't need to scare people," Bryce pointed out.

"Yeah, well, we couldn't use our good con," Ryker reminded him in a light tone, "he went and made himself famous by painting the painting in the first place. And, besides, I know you've used violence before."

"Huh?" Bryce questioned.

"You shot Keller, remember?" Ryker pointed out. Interestingly enough, it was just a statement and he didn't sound angry about it.

Bryce just made a noise of agreement and turned away to check the equipment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

Neal came swaggering into the office with a newspaper in his hands and bounded right up to Peter's office. He didn't pay attention to the curious glances the agents sent his way. Now that he and Ryker were working on a CIA mission together, Neal and Peter were trying to put their differences aside to work together. In other works, things were back to the way they had been.

At least on the surface.

"I have our next case!" he announced cheerfully, holding up the paper.

Peter glanced up with an irritable expression which momentarily softened to a smile.

"Going department store shopping?" he quipped, "I would never have guessed."

"What?" Neal turned the paper around and noticed the large ad that took up half the page; one of the department stores was having a sale. "No, I'm talking about the article under it." He placed it on the table and pointed to the paragraph long article about a painting that was stolen overnight.

Peter gave him a disbelieving glare that caused him to back up a few steps.

"NYPD's going to handle that case, not us," he said, "and you have a real estate scam to solve."

Neal sighed. He was only trying to have a little fun and it had felt like ages since he had been able to joke around in the office.

Peter glanced up at him.

"You can go now, Neal," he said. He waited until a very unhappy Neal made it to the door before adding, "and El wants you to come round for dinner."

"What?" he questioned, turning quickly to face him. Was this some kind of trick? He goes round and El feeds him poisoned food or they lock him up in the basement base or something.

"She wants to know more about your life," he responded.

"Oh," was all he could say. It was the oddest request he had ever heard. He nodded that he would be there and walked out of the office.

He noticed that some of the agents were giving him suspicious looks. To them, it appeared like he had worked his way back into Peter's good graces very quickly after their falling out. Most didn't know why he and Peter had been fighting, although Jones and Diana had suspected.

And they had started acting normal around him as soon as it looked like Peter had forgiven him. He hadn't done anything to get Peter to forgive him. He knew it had to be an act.

His stomach churned as he wondered just how much of Peter was an act.

* * *

Peter sighed and ran his hands through his thinning hair. Acting normal with Neal wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Neal was likeable; it was one of the things which drew him to the conman in the first place.

But, how much of Neal was an act? He had certainly seemed confident when he walked into the office and a little apprehensive when Peter told him about dinner. He wondered what Bryce really thought about the offer. Was it the same as Neal; a little apprehensive and probably worried about intruding, or did he consider it a waste of time now that they knew his real identity?

He tossed those thoughts from his head as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. He sent a text to Sarah, stating that he hadn't heard from Ward yet, and walked outside into the bullpen.

"Hey, Peter," Jones greeted him in a hushed voice as he walked by. "Is there something going on with Caffrey?"

"No. Why do you ask?" he responded. Neal looked fine to him, waving at him from his desk.

"Just, and I know I'm out-of-line but, the issue with Keller. Do we really know his role in it?"

To Peter, it felt like he was asking, 'do we really know Neal?'

"Keller was trying to bring Neal down and hurt me in the process," Peter responded. It was bending the truth. The treasure had also been a big motivator but Keller wasn't a guy who did things for a singular reason.

"Peter, ready to go?" Neal questioned loudly, tipping his hand onto his head. "Don't want to leave El waiting."

Jones gave Peter a look that said he thought he was getting to close to Neal.

"El insisted," Peter told him, "she believes the right person is behind bars and wants to give Neal the benefit of doubt." Both things she had said before they had learnt about Bryce.

Jones wasn't convinced but he did back off.

"Time to go?" Neal questioned as he walked over. Peter nodded and he gave a sigh of relief.

Peter shot him an exasperated look; did he really have to be so eager to leave?, and then felt a sting of pain as he realised that Bryce might really want to leave. He had mentioned going back into the spy game after Neal Caffrey's commutation hearing.

Neal! He wanted to call out but, the words wouldn't come. And then he turned around and flashed the Caffrey smile;

"Come on, Peter or I'll leave without you," he said, pulling out his keys. Peter slapped his pockets; when had he taken those?

He pushed the knowledge that Neal was going leave down deep and cursed the other man for taking his keys.

Neal laughed and skirted out the door. Peter followed, shaking his head at his partner's antics.

* * *

El wasn't alone when they arrived. She was sitting in the lounge with Sarah across from her.

"Sarah," Neal breathed in surprise, "what-"

"We were just talking," Sarah responded quickly, clearing her throat and nodding her thanks to El.

"Oh, you don't have to go." El stood up when she did.

Sarah grabbed her handbag, a small cream-coloured thing, and moved towards the door.

"Chuck's probably expecting me back soon," she explained, excusing herself.

"Uh, bye?" Peter called after her.

"What was Sarah doing here?" Neal questioned.

El gave them an exasperated look as she shrugged her hands in the air and let them drop to her sides.

"She came to talk," she explained.

"About what?" Peter asked, slightly confused and protective. He didn't understand what a spy would be doing in his house while he wasn't here. "She didn't go downstairs, did she?"

"No," El responded in that tone she got when he was being overly suspicious to the point of insensitive, "she really was here to talk."

"She didn't have to leave," Neal questioned, just as confused. Peter made a motion of agreement and El groaned and rubbed her forehead.

"You are her ex," she pointed out.

"Yeah. What does that have to do with it?" Neal questioned, honestly baffled.

"People don't usually hang out with their exs," El explained patiently.

"But, we're spies," Neal pointed out, "we shouldn't let out feelings get in the way."

"Shouldn't doesn't mean don't," El countered. She looked at Peter when she spoke. He didn't want to participate in this; he really had trouble talking about emotions and stuff, so he just smiled and nodded.

"So, what's for dinner?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject. Neal gave him a look that said he wasn't fooled but El's eyes widened in realisation.

"I haven't decided yet," she mused in surprise, "I got so caught up chatting that I lost track of time."

"I could cook," Neal suggested and before either of them could protest he started walking towards the kitchen, adding, "since you've been kind enough to invite me to dinner."

El looked happy at the prospect and Peter had a moment where he thought it was okay. Then he remembered that there was a spy in his kitchen, offering to make him dinner and he needed to be worried about poison in the food.

"We could help," he pointed out, following Neal.

* * *

**Author's note: **Chuck and Sarah return next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter 12**

* * *

When Peter and Neal arrived, Sarah had quickly bid her goodbyes and left. They were the last two people she wanted to know about her going to El for advice about what to do with the Chuck and the 'does he want a baby?' situation. It was crazy, even to her, that she would be worried about such a little thing. She was a trained spy and should be able to talk her way through anything.

El assured her that it wasn't a little thing, that having a child would be a big step for them and that she should talk to Chuck about it because they needed to be on the same page, especially if their actions were going to affect another life.

"Talk about it as many times as you need to," she had said. Now, Sarah was certain that she hid any signs of nervousness. Sitting there with El, it was easy to imagine having that talk. Yet, El had looked at her and then said that she would call tomorrow and see if she had talked to him. "If you haven't, then we'll come up with another plan," she explained knowledgeably.

Maybe El's ability to read people or to just have a back-up plan that the other person would find acceptable was part of her job as an event-planner. As much as she would have liked to go to El for more advice, the more she did, the more likely it was that Peter or, heaven forbid, Bryce would find out. The last thing she wanted was her ex hearing about her current relationship worries.

"Chuck?" she called as she opened the door to their hotel room, her heart hammering in her chest. There was a lot that could go wrong; maybe he would leave her because he wanted children, maybe they would be so tense that they wouldn't be able to continue working together on this mission or maybe he would insist on children anyway, regardless of what she wanted. There was a lot to lose.

"Hey," he greeted her with his large, nerdy smile from the bed where he was sitting and flipping through a TV guide.

"Hi," she responded, nerves bubbling up in her stomach. She strolled across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, on the opposite side from him.

He seemed to sense that something was up as he sat up.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"We need to talk," she responded. The worry that settled into his features sent a stab of pain through her heart. Maybe this could wait? At least until the mission was over. "I want to go out for dinner tonight," she said instead of starting the baby conversation, "it's a place El suggested and I'd like to try it while we're here." She accompanied all this with a bright smile.

The worry on Chuck's face vanished, replaced with confusion which hurt her less.

"That's what you want to talk about?" He didn't sound so certain.

"Of course," she said, nodding her head to reinforce the thought. "I don't think we go out nearly enough."

Chuck mused on this for a moment before smiling again.

"Sure, if that's what you want," he said, grabbing his wallet. "So, where is this place?"

She smiled at his happy energy as she relayed what El had told her.

* * *

Chuck knew that he was easy to fool. He fell for each and every story people told. But, he also knew that they didn't work too long on him. He dawned onto the way Sarah changed the subject the next morning, when he woke up and she was already in the shower. She hadn't been sleeping near him and they didn't cuddle in the mornings either.

He knew then that whatever she wanted to talk about, it wasn't about going out. No, there was something else bothering her. Something that made it difficult for her to be close to him.

"Sarah, is there anything wrong?" he asked her when she came out of the shower. It was probably a little mean surprise her with such a question during her morning routine but, he had been hoping to surprise a proper answer out of her.

"Nope," she responded. One word responses weren't proper answers; Chuck's high school English teacher would support him on that.

He didn't know what to do. Once again, he felt like he was failing her. He failed to know what she needed.

Later that morning, their phones rang, one after the other. Sarah's rang first and she pushed himself outside while she answered it. His rang a little bit after and he answered it while sitting next to the locked hotel room door.

"Peter heard from Ward and they're meeting in three hours," Bryce said, "get ready."

"Right," Chuck responded. Peter would come and pick them up and they would use his equipment to monitor the meet. Chuck knocked on the door and called out to Sarah that they had work to do.

* * *

The plan was simple enough. Ryker would meet with Ward and whomever he was working for, confirm that they had the first painting and then they would take them down. If he could get their reason for stealing it out of them, then that was a bonus, although Sarah was pretty sure they could get that out of them during interrogation.

Sarah, Chuck and Bryce; he couldn't use Neal's ID because the meet was outside his radius, would be listening from a back room of the warehouse where the meet was taking place. Bryce set up cameras, Chuck programmed their laptops to the feed and Sarah scouted the place. She located all the exits and paths. She also hid a few guns for Ryker to use if he needed. Ryker watched and coordinated.

"So, when was the last time you did something like this?" Bryce felt like asking. The silence had been bugging him.

"Why do you ask?" Ryker responded in a lower register of voice than Peter used. Bryce felt a shiver creep down his back before he sighed.

He shouldn't have expected anything else, it wasn't like he would answer properly if Peter; Ryker!, asked.

"It's almost time," Sarah announced and the hush returned to the room. She turned to Ryker. "You should get into place."

Ryker nodded and moved. Bryce tried to suppress the feeling that something was wrong. After all, he wasn't really used to seeing Ryker work. He was used to working with Peter.

Ward showed five minutes after the designated meeting time. He strolled in and stopped a fair distance away from Ryker.

"You're late," Ryker commented.

"Yeah, well, things happen," Ward responded in a vexed tone, "you have the painting?"

Ryker nodded and lifted the tube carton he was holding.

"You have my money?"

Ward nodded and motioned towards the briefcase he was carrying.

"Let's do this then," Ryker said, stepping forward. "Although, I don't know what you'd want with this painting."

"That's none of your business," Ward spat as he pulled out a gun. "Drop the painting!"

Ryker held his arms up, still holding the tube. Bryce's stomach felt like it plummeted. His instincts had been right, there was something off about this. It wasn't an exchange, Ward was going to take the painting and kill the witness.

Peter.

"I thought we had a deal?" Peter questioned. There was a shift in the shadows around him.

"Bryce!" Sarah scolded in a whisper as he jumped to his feet and out the door. The back room was hidden behind storage boxes, so they couldn't see him as he stalked out.

"What are you doing?" He should have guessed that Sarah would follow him out.

"He's in danger," Bryce responded, pulling out his gun. "We have to help him."

"No." She grabbed his arm. "He's a trained spy, he can handle it."

Bryce glanced through the boxes where Peter was surrounded by four gunmen, including Ward. There was no way he would be able to grab his gun and shoot them before they shot him.

"I'll take that," Ward said and Peter grunted as the tube was taken from him.

It sounded final and so, Bryce shrugged Sarah off and moved.


	13. Chapter 13

** Chapter 13**

* * *

"Shoot him," Ward ordered and Ryker tensed. He decided to go for the largest guy, who was right behind him, grab him and pull him in front as a human shield.

Gunshots sounded and Ryker instinctively lashed out. He grabbed the man, barely conscious of the other gunman and Ward on the other side falling to the ground, and yanked him between himself and the remaining gunman. He held his gun to the man's chin and cut off his air until he was unconscious.

There were shots as the forth man took cover. Ryker dropped his human shield and was thrown to the ground a moment later as the report of a gunshot sounded and then the sound of running feet.

He groaned as he moved to sit up, pain lancing through his side. His groan was echoed by a hiss from the figure which pounded him out of the way.

Neal- no, Bryce was lying across his lap with his hair thrown in all directions and sweat plastered across his forehead. Ryker's heart thudded in terror as he noticed the blood on his hand.

"Bryce!" Chuck called out, running over. Ryker snapped out of his haze and slid out from under Bryce, checking him over for injury.

"Bryce," he said quietly, trying to rouse the guy. He gave him a few gentle taps to the cheek, silently begging him to open his eyes. He tried to ignore the part of him that was screaming, 'Neal!', the part which was panicked by the sight of the conman and friend lying in a pool of blood.

He was, admittedly, exaggerating slightly; there were only a few drops of blood on the concrete floor.

"Stop that," Bryce groaned and opened one of his eyes. "I'm fine." He then tried to prove it by standing up, only for his legs to collapse under his weight.

Ryker felt obligated to point out the obvious. "You're bleeding."

Bryce looked at him in surprise, then turned his attention to his left sleeve.

"Ugh, he grazed me," he grumbled, fiddling with the fabric so that they could see the slice the bullet made through his arm.

"Ah, Bryce! You're bleeding!" Chuck stated in a panicked voice.

"Really Chuck? I hadn't noticed," Bryce responded sarcastically, "but, really, I'm fine."

Ryker had seen this too many times with Neal to not know what to do. In fact, his body moved instinctively.

"Chuck and Sarah can take it from here; we're getting you checked out," he said in his best authoritative tone.

"Please, this isn't my first gunshot wound," Bryce responded, standing up. This time he succeeded and he gave Ryker a look that said, 'see, I'm completely fine'.

However, he was clutching at his upper arm and applying pressure to the wound with nothing more than his hand, so he certainly wasn't fine.

"Then you should know how to treat it," Ryker responded, "and you should know that part of treating it is to get the professionals to look at it if you can. And you can."

"I can't go to hospital with a gunshot wound," Bryce pointed out, sounding almost pleased about it.

"I'll flash my badge and say you were injured while on duty," Ryker responded, grabbing Bryce's uninjured arm. "We'll get them to look at your ankle too." Because he noticed the way he wasn't putting any weight on it.

"I'm fine," Bryce insisted with a sigh.

"I got the last guy, hopefully he didn't warn anyone," Sarah pointed out as she walked back over.

"I'll check his phone in a moment and see if he called anyone," Chuck said. And then they both turned to Bryce. It was obvious that no one was going back to work until he was on his way to getting looked at.

He squirmed a little under their gazes.

"Come on," Ryker said, patting him on the shoulder. "The car's just outside."

"I can't believe I messed up that tackle," Bryce grumbled as he walked towards the car with a hidden limp.

"I'll get him checked out," Ryker promised the other two agents, "he won't leave unless the doctor says so."

"Make sure of it," Sarah said, almost like an order. Chuck nodded his agreement, clenching and unclenching trembling hands.

"We'll meet you there once we're done here," he added.

* * *

He only had a twisted ankle and a flesh wound that was cleaned and bandaged. As he kept telling Peter, the damage to his ego was worse than his physical injuries. He still couldn't believe he messed up the tackle, even if he had shot Ward and one of the gunmen at the same time. He should have been able to do that in his sleep.

"You hit their shoulders and knees," Peter pointed out, "I think you did good enough."

Neal wasn't convinced and he said so.

"I don't know what you want me to say or do; it's not like I asked you to go jumping in front of bullets!" Peter said in an agitated tone, "no matter how good you are with a gun, that was dangerous! Why did you do it?"

Shock flashed on Neal's face. He hadn't even though about why.

"You were in trouble," he said plainly, feeling like a fool for saying as much. He had forgotten that Peter was also Kieran Ryker, an experienced CIA agent. But, without his intervention, it was highly likely that he would have been injured, if not killed.

If he had let Peter die back there, what would happen to El? What about Diana, Jones, and even Mozzie? Cover or not, they all would mourn the loss of Peter.

"I couldn't just stand by and let you get hurt," he added.

Peter went silent and a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

"Bryce?" Chuck questioned, his dark haired head popping around the door a moment later. "Ah! Good, you're still here."

"Where's Sarah?" Neal asked as she hadn't appeared.

"Talking with the doctor who treated you," Chuck admitted with a nervous and embarrassed expression on his face, "she absolutely wants to make sure you're okay before we drive you home."

Neal rolled his eyes in response.

"Can you blame her?" Chuck said, "the last time you were shot, I watched you die and she walked in to see your dead body."

"I was unconscious, not dead!" Neal pointed out, in an attempt to correct the facts, "you should learn to check for a pulse."

The angry and hurt glare Chuck sent him was enough to make him regret saying that and he wasn't going to bring this up again. Peter gave him a light slap on his shoulder, silently indicating what he should do.

"Sorry," he said, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. It was only now he noticed the way Chuck's shoulders were tense, how his smile didn't reach his eyes and the way his hands trembled. Peter gave him a nod, to tell him that he said the right thing so he didn't add the rest of it. Like, 'I hadn't planned on you being there'. Now that he thought about it, that would probably not be the best thing to say.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's notes: **Clara is Chuck's niece and Ellie's and Awesome's child.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Peter had a lot on his mind as he dropped the still injured Neal off at June's the next evening. In the office, Neal had passed off his injuries as an accident. He spread some story about Bugsy and an antique table which no one really believed but was entertaining enough to reassure everyone that he was okay.

Neal seemed the same as always. If Peter hadn't seen him in action and hadn't see the way the other CIA agents had reacted towards him, he wouldn't have guessed that Neal was anything more than a conman and CI. Not for the first time, he wondered what Bryce Larkin was really like.

The man himself wasn't going to give him any answers but, by lunchtime, he had an alternative option. Peter called Chuck and asked him over for dinner. El was going out with Sarah, so Peter figured he could use the company.

Chuck was sitting on the step when he arrived, his head hanging over the phone in his hands. Peter instantly recognised the sounds and confirmed it when he got close. The slingshot and structures creating a familiar colourful scene. Peter had played it himself, almost getting addicted before El hired Neal to steal his phone whenever he was playing it for more than twenty minutes.

"You should aim for the support here," he said as he pointed to one of the wooden beams. "It'll all come crashing down after that."

Chuck jolted in surprise when he spoke and then tried Peter's suggestion beating the level and achieving three stars for his efforts.

"Thanks," he said, standing up. His whole body radiated nerves, from the way he wiped his hands on the legs of his pants to the way he kept glancing around.

"You coming in?" Peter questioned, pointing inside the house. Chuck shook his head.

"Sarah doesn't want me in there," he explained, "not until they leave."

"Well, too bad," Peter responded, "it's also my house and I can invite you in." He opened the door and called out, "I'm home, hon," as he walked through.

El came running out to meet him, looked miffed at his intrusion.

"No, not yet!" she said, motioning for him to go outside. "We're still here."

"Uh, do you really need the whole house for privacy?" he questioned. She nodded in response and motioned for him to leave again. "Can we sit out on the back patio?"

She relented and Peter showed Chuck round the back to the table and chairs they had sitting outside.

* * *

"What do you think they're talking about?" Chuck asked him as he watched his wife chat to El.

"No idea," Peter responded with a sigh. "I wanted to talk to you though."

"Me?" He seemed surprised. Not horrified or suspicious, just surprised. "Why?"

"I want you to tell me about Bryce Larkin. I've read the files but I want an account from someone who knew him."

Chuck seemed confused by the question but he nodded.

"I don't really know what to tell you though."

"How about I just as questions and you answer them?" Chuck nodded. "How would you describe his personality?"

"Uh," Chuck stalled as he thought. "I guess I would say that he's determined and single-minded but flexible. He likes challenging what people think he should be like. And he doesn't think about how his actions might affect others." He frowned as he said that last part, as if he was remembering something unpleasant.

Peter thought about this for a moment. Sure, most of those could apply to Neal but, it was like some forms of fortune telling. Someone tells you it and you can see it because you either see yourself that way but mostly because you can think of a situation or time where it would apply.

"What about jumping into that situation last night?" Peter asked, "is that something you could see Bryce doing?"

"Yes," Chuck responded instantly, "and he likes to go off and do his own thing a lot. I doubt Sarah sees it because Bryce put a lot of effort into being the 'perfect spy' but he does have his flaws. I can't compete to him when it comes to romance though."

It still sounded like Neal! Peter felt slightly frustrated as he tried to come up with a question that would break the illusion.

"Could you see him stealing something?" Wait, he stole the Intersect, didn't he? "Uh, or maybe, does he like guns?"

Chuck finally gave him a suspicious look, even if it was mixed with confusion. A lot of confusion.

"I don't get why you're asking?"

Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn't even know why he was asking! He just wanted to find some kind of fatal flaw in Bryce's Caffrey disguise, something that would prove he wasn't all he pretended to be.

Something that would remind him to keep on his toes around the other agent.

* * *

Sarah and El went to a family run restaurant that El knew about because she was friends with the owners. They sat down at the booth and ordered their food before El brought up the big issue.

"So, you didn't tell him?" It was a rhetorical question. Back at the house, Sarah mentioned that she hadn't and she had dodged the issue during El's phone call.

She shook her head in response anyway and didn't provide any more information. The more she thought, the more she thought that this subject should just be left alone.

El didn't share the same believe.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We're going to have a nice dinner out as friends and then we're going to go and talk with Chuck. I'll be there and Peter will be there to back you up." El's tone left no room for arguments.

* * *

While Chuck could cook, they ended up ordering pizza. Peter made up something about how it was like having a dinner out without going out and that it was nicer with the TV and beer. Part of it was because he really shouldn't have been eating pizza.

They talked about anything other than Neal Caffrey, Peter stalling whenever the name came up or was going to come up. He found himself talking about some of the criminals he chased but ended up retelling some of the things Neal had done while he was chasing him. After he realised that, he stopped talking about work and changed the subject to sport.

Which Chuck had little to no knowledge of so Peter decided to explain professional baseball to him.

That's how they spent their time until their wives came walking through the door. El pulled off her shoes the moment she passed the threshold while Sarah remained looking the same as she did when she left.

Chuck and Peter rose to greet them when El told them to sit back down. They shared a baffled look.

"What's going on?" Peter asked when Chuck didn't.

"Sarah has something she wants to say," El said, sitting down next to Peter and taking her husband's hand.

Chuck's face went pale and he swallowed. The poor guy looked like he was about to pass out. Sarah saw it and El had to get up and take her hand and guide Sarah to the couch next to her so she wouldn't decide to leave.

"Alright, um-" she stalled.

"I thought we went over-" Peter started to say because; he had already tried to teach her what happened if you didn't talk to the people around her. Others would take advantage of that.

But, El nudged him to be quiet and let her speak.

"Chuck, Sarah has something she wants to talk to you about," she started. Chuck briefly glanced at her as she spoke before turning back to Sarah.

Sarah didn't speak. El nudged her but she still didn't say anything.

"Sarah?" Chuck questioned in a worried voice.

"I'm not ready for kids," she said quickly, her body language stiff. Chuck almost jolted at the words.

"Uh, what?" he questioned, the colour returning to his face.

"She's not ready for kids," El repeated, "she found the picture you drew of her, you and a baby. She realised that she's not ready."

"Because of everything that's happened over the last few months," Sarah added, trying to justify it.

"Oh," Chuck stated, trying to process this. He didn't seem angry but, for once, he wasn't easily readable either. "I didn't expect you to be, um, and it's not like we're trying. We haven't even engaged in baby-making activit- oh." Realisation hit; his eyes widened and his mouth opened and shut without making a noise. "And that's why. Oh, Sarah, I'm sorry, I didn't notice!"

He stood up and it looked like he was about to hug her but, he changed his mind at the last moment and placed his hands on her upper arms.

"I don't want a baby just yet either," he said, "I'd like a little me or you running around one day but, that's up to you. It's always been up to you."

"Really? What about your mother, wouldn't she like another grandchild?"

"She has Clara," Chuck responded with certainty, "and she can wait. You're not the only one still trying to adjust to having a family."

Sarah smiled a small but happy smile just for Chuck.

"See?" El said, smiling as well. "Talking helps."

Peter opened his mouth to say what he thought might also help, a plan involving a lost room key, a hired couple and a very public argument, but El pre-empted him and shook her head as a warning. He huffed and decided to save his plan for another day.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

Neal yawned and blinked to clear the blurriness from his eyes so he could focus on the blocks of print in front of him. Mortgage fraud was boring, always boring and always the same. It wasn't a great art theft or infiltrating a consulate; it was sitting at a desk reading dull words on a dull page.

"Could you look any less awake?" Diana asked him as she placed a coffee on his desk.

"I really don't know," he jokingly responded, rubbing his eyes as he focused on something other than words for a nice change. "Mortgage fraud," he said by manner of explaining.

"Oh," Diana commented with a smile that told him she was enjoying his predicament. Neal gave her a wounded look in reply and stretched out before picking up his pen and returning to the papers in front of him.

Diana started to leave.

"Hey, you forgot your coffee!" Neal pointed out, picking up the cup and holding it up for her to take.

"That's for you," she informed him with a snicker of laughter. Neal stared at the cup of coffee, feeling the warm heat in his hand. It was the good stuff and a welcome alternative to the office mud but, it had been so long since someone had brought him a coffee 'just because'.

He almost didn't know how to respond.

"Uh, thanks," he said, flashing her a smile and turning back to his work before she could realise how off-balance he felt because of her kindness.

He sipped at the coffee as he unravelled the evidence behind the case. As he always tried to keep an eye on Peter, he noticed the man leave his office and walk down into the bullpen before he called his name.

"Neal! Come on," he motioned, not even breaking stride as he walked towards the elevators.

Neal felt a thrill go through him. This was different. He cleared his desk and jumped to follow, flipping his hat onto his head.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just wait," Peter responded as the elevator doors opened. Curious, Neal followed him. He waited for Peter to be ready to speak, but couldn't help asking a few more times.

"Sidney Ward's information has come back," Peter finally explained once Neal asked in the car, "he was working alone."

"Alone?" Neal questioned, "but he said something about a client?"

"A lie to get me to do an exchange with him," Peter responded quickly. Then he thought about it and amended what he said. "No, sorry. He intended to sell the painting, after he figured out why it was so important."

"So, he didn't actually know?" Neal questioned in disbelief.

"He claims not to. But, he did theorise the same as Sarah and me; that the painting had something to do with your theft of the Intersect."

Neal made a disgruntled sound. He didn't like his painting being stolen by someone who didn't even know what it was for.

"Anyway, they believe he stored the painting as his New York residence, which we managed to locate using the FBI database and his fingerprints."

"That's what you spent all morning doing!" Neal realised, "I'm sad you didn't invite me."

"Force of habit," Peter responded with a smirk. "I'm used to doing this by myself and sending you to your desk with the latest in mortgage fraud."

Neal felt his respect grow for Peter. All the times he had sat at his desk all morning with boring cases while Peter did CIA related stuff in his office and he hadn't seen through any of it.

"Next time," Neal wanted Peter to promise.

Peter gave him an indecipherable stare for a few moments, before Neal called out to watch the road and the proximity alarm started blaring.

"Next time," Peter agreed in the silence following his car screeching to a halt.

* * *

The address was really for one of Ward's aliases. Peter guided Neal up to the floor with a hand on the small of his back and covered Neal's side, keeping anyone who came up from seeing the picks he stuck in the doorknob, as he picked the lock.

Inside, the place was a mess. Rubbish bags stacked around the place, dirty dishes in the sink and things placed everywhere. Neal winced at the replicas of famous painting hanging on the walls.

"Good thing we've already arrested him," he commented, crinkling his nose in distaste. Hanging before him was a copy of 'Girl with a Pearl Earring', slanted almost completely to the side. "I almost want to shoot him again."

"Neal," Peter said in warning.

"Bryce." He couldn't help reminding the man of his other name.

"Fine," Peter sighed, "since we took the anklet off before coming in here."

"Want me to call you 'Ryker'?" Neal asked in a joking tone. Really, he was testing the waters. Seeing which name the other man related with more.

"Peter. Kieran Ryker's supposed to be dead." Also, Kieran Ryker was just the name he joined the CIA under, same as Peter Burke was the name he joined the FBI under. "A question for a question and an answer for an answer; why 'Neal Caffrey'?"

"Huh?" Neal questioned as he checked under the couch cushions. "What do you mean by that? The agency picked the name."

Peter, who was searching the kitchenette, flinched as he moved a plate and ended up setting of a chain reaction which ended with smashed plates and bowls on the floor. He glanced up, partly expecting to be scolded on his technique for searching houses.

Instead, he caught Neal hiding a laugh.

"That's not what I meant. Just, wouldn't it be easier to do your job if you were a violent criminal or something?" Peter questioned, wondering if Neal would clam up. They were spies and supposed to be able to mould to whatever role was required.

Neal made a face of distaste.

"Uh, no. Yes, it would be easier, but so tedious. And, as a criminal, I don't have a reason to use a gun so I don't."

Peter didn't know how to respond to that. He had seen so many criminals justify having a gun when the FBI turned up to search a house or turn a gun on CIA agent Kieran Ryker because they could.

"So, the CIA let you be whatever criminal you wanted?" he questioned, recalling something Chuck had told him. Something like hope blossomed in his chest. However, he was acutely aware of how easily his hopes could be crushed.

Neal snorted and, for a moment, Peter felt despair wash over him.

"They didn't specify how much of a criminal I had to be," he hinted with a smirk. It was a very Neal-like thing to say and he said it in the same tone that he had used on their first day of working together.

_'Tell me which rule I broke.'_

_'They didn't specify.'_

* * *

Chuck had said_, "you shouldn't forget that Bryce is Neal and he created Neal. Bryce always had a little conman in him and Neal probably has a little agent in him. Neal puts a lot of effort into being the 'perfect conman' but he does have his flaws._

_"__It's obvious that you see more of Bryce than Sarah did and maybe even more than me. He did jump in front of a bullet for you."_

"I found it!" Neal called out victoriously, shocking Peter out of his thoughts. Neal groaned a little as he pulled a rolled up canvas out from behind the couch.

"Great," Peter sighed happily. They could finally leave this mess-hole. "Now we just have to get it to the airport."

"The airport? Is someone picking it up?"

Peter froze. Neal didn't know?

"Chuck and Sarah's flight is in a few hours," he explained, "they're going to be transporting the painting."

Neal blinked for a moment, his face going suspiciously blank. Peter automatically found himself wondering what the other man was planning. He realised then that he still thought, 'what is Neal planning,' rather than, 'what is Bryce thinking,' in these situations.

Even though the other man wasn't wearing a tracking anklet right now.

"How are we doing this?" Neal asked in a businesslike manner.

"The plan is to place the painting in a tube and then one of us is to go for a drink, leaving the tube with the painting at our feet. Then, when Chuck or Sarah take the seat next to us, we leave and they pick up the painting as they leave."

Neal thought about that for a few moments before nodding.

"Can I see it?" Peter asked, pointing at the painting.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Peter didn't have to wonder exactly when he had decided that Neal would do the drop. The moment he had told his partner of the plan, he knew that Neal would be the one ordering the drink and leaving the painting. The role seemed to fit Neal more than him.

He was sitting at a table nearby and sipped at a tea while he watched over the drop. Neal was sitting at the bar with the tube at his feet, sipping at some kind of lightly tinted drink that Peter didn't know the name of. He thought of the painting that was sitting in the tube and smiled. It was a sight to behold and Neal had even told him where the clues were for finding his little hoard. The piece did have a young feel to it which was lacking in Neal's later works, many which Peter had seen drying in his apartment over the years but, as Neal himself put it, 'it was from another name and another life'.

Peter wondered if Neal realised how those words sounded.

_"__...you see more of Bryce..."_

A blond woman walked into the bar, attracting the attention of everyone around her. She ignored them all and walked straight up to the bar, displaying her wedding ring as she stretched, placed her hands on the bar and ordered.

Just like the rest of them, Neal's gaze followed her until she stretched and drew attention to her ring. Peter wondered what Neal was thinking about. Sarah had said that they were over and had been ever since she met Chuck but, Neal didn't mention any romantic past with her.

Peter was jolted out of his thoughts by Neal standing up and leaving. He watched the man leave and silently cursed that he was stuck here until Sarah left.

* * *

Neal walked around the airport, watching the crowds and scanning their faces. He didn't know what specifically he was looking for, just that he was. It was just second nature.

He didn't want to think that maybe he was looking for some kind of sign.

Neal Caffrey's life was starting to get comfortable again. He was working cases with Peter as well as missions, something he didn't even imagine was possible. He had talked with El and was even talking with Diana and Jones like friends again.

But, he needed to remember that he wasn't Neal Caffrey. Not really. He needed to remember that his name was really Bryce Larkin and that, when this was all over, he had to go back to the CIA for missions and orders.

Neal Caffrey would vanish.

El's kidnapping had reminded him of how Neal Caffrey's life was one filled with suspicion, where everyone could turn on him in an instant and he wouldn't have much chance to defend himself. But, as time passed, he seemed to be getting comfortable again.

Leaving Neal's life would be even more difficult now than it had been before. He knew he would be leaving Mozzie and June but now Jones and Diana were back on the list and he might not see El again either, even though she knew who he really was.

And the FBI. He hadn't expected the work to be as interesting as it had been and it had been nice chasing regular criminals and working with people smart enough to keep up.

"Bryce!" he heard Peter call. He turned around and spotted the other man quickly walking over. "Ah, finally!" he commented as he stopped in before him, out of breath.

Neal made a questioning noise.

"I called your name a few times," Peter chuckled, "you seemed to be lost in thought."

"Yeah," he agreed. While he had been lost in thought, he realised with growing horror that he hadn't responded because he hadn't registered 'Bryce' as being him. It made sense for Peter to call him that as he wasn't wearing the anklet.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Without a hitch," Peter responded, pressing his hand between Neal's shoulder blades and pushing him into a walk. "Sarah has the painting and their flight just left."

Neal nodded to show that he was listening. He missed Chuck already. Chuck was the only person so far that he could even mention his problems to. He didn't think Mozzie would appreciate learning that, not only was he a fed, he was a fed with identity issues. And Peter had the best of both worlds, being in the CIA and the FBI. He didn't have to choose.

There was one person he could think of, who was not Chuck, but they didn't know he was CIA.

* * *

"I see. This talk isn't just about travelling the world when you have your freedom, is it?" June commented calmly, her face level as she spoke.

Neal looked away, a guilty move but he wanted her to know that he felt bad about this. June had taken in what she thought was an ex-con but turned out to be more. Even though he was technically conning her into thinking he was someone he was not.

"When the anklet comes off and the FBI lets you go, then you have somewhere else to be," she summarised, "perhaps even someone _else_ to be. And you're afraid it means leaving the life you have here behind."

"I _have_ to leave this life behind." And, because she had already guessed at most of it, he clarified, "I have to leave Neal Caffrey's life behind."

June shook her head and the quick flash of disappointment on her face felt like a nail driving through his heart.

"Neal, darling, if you're about to say 'for our own good and safety', I will not be impressed," her voice rang with years of experience.

"That's part of it," he said, feeling like a schoolboy doing the wrong thing, "but-" What could he say? He had orders? Like that had ever stopped him before. He wasn't as bad as some people, Chuck and Sarah coming to mind, but he wasn't a complete yes-man. "I don't know when I'll be able to return to New York. And, even if I do, I won't be Neal Caffrey, I won't be able to see you without risking everything."

"I know you're better than this," June said quietly. The words were said with certainty and without venom. This wasn't a scolding, it was advice. "You're an intelligent and clever man, a great conman, so surely you can figure out some way to visit that wouldn't risk anything. And, even if you're in danger and need a place to lay low, you will always be welcome here."

Realisation shot through Neal, casting surprise over his features. He could use her home as a safe house whenever he was in New York since June had offered her home.

There was just one problem.

"I'm not a conman, not really," he explained as he was really a spy.

"Neal," June smiled a knowing smile, "what's a sting?"

"A Government sanctioned con," he responded automatically, adding in his head that it made government agents conmen; the good ones at least.

The realisation brought another; did June know that he was a government agent? She certainly spoke like she did but, he knew that the rules of a con were to act like you held all the cards and knew all the secrets.

He opened his mouth to ask when she stood up.

"I think we'll have dinner on the balcony," she commented, "since it's such a lovely evening." She left to inform the staff of the change, leaving Neal to his thoughts.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Notes: **So, this is the final chapter, I believe. I think I've tied up all the loose ends. Thank you to all the Guests who took time to review and also to night-batfamily, ynwa, 21JumpStreetMcQuaids, sarafine-ecleips, Nina and KeJae. Thanks for all your reviews!

I would love it if readers would take the time to review at the end of this chapter (tell me something you liked in this story if you don't know what to say).

* * *

**Chapter 17**

* * *

Neal's commutation was both a happy and sad affair. Neal Caffrey was free but, everyone from White Collar knew that he had turned down the CI job Hughes had offered and had a feeling that they might not see him again.

There was a cake shared at the Burke's place after the anklet came off for the final time.

"Congratulations," Diana said quietly to Neal as he sipped at the champagne El had bought for the occasion. "So, what's next?"

"Travel the world, I guess," Neal responded with a smirk. "It's been a while since I was last in Paris. And I'd like to see the Louvre."

"That better not be foreshadowing, Caffrey," Jones commented as he passed Diana a slice of cake. "We don't need the extra work."

Diana laughed.

"Yeah. Think about the amount of paper work you're sending your old colleagues' way the next time you want to steal something," she added, making Neal laugh too.

"I will," he said, raising his glass in toast before moving to work the crowd.

Mozzie was the next to confront him.

"So, where'll we be going, mon frère?"

Neal looked down at him and felt a pang of loss. He wouldn't be able to do this with Mozzie, his next mission didn't require input from his quirky asset.

"Just me this time, Moz," Neal responded.

"Ah," Mozzie commented, "the Suits have converted you to their ways. You want to travel without the excitement?"

Nope. There would be excitement, just the Bryce variety of excitement.

"I guess. Without what you'd consider to be excitement at least," Neal responded.

Mozzie's bottom lip shuddered for a moment before he bowed his head and raised his glass.

"To our Final Score," he toasted and they clinked their glasses. Although not obvious to anyone watching, they were really toasting to the loss of the opportunity to get to the final score together.

"'Final Score', huh?" Peter questioned, sending Mozzie away with his words. With the obstruction gone, he turned to Neal. "So, should I be worried?"

"Hmm?" Neal questioned, putting on the con smile he knew bugged Peter. "Of course not."

Peter raised an eyebrow and his expression told Neal that he didn't believe him.

"I hear they're sending you after Mickaël Dufour," his whispered to him in a conspiratorial tone that made Neal smile sadly. "Be careful, he's supposed to be really good a picking out infiltrating agents."

"Ah, but I'm not an agent," Neal responded in a 'tsk tsk' tone, "I'm just an American ex-felon going on _vacances_."

Peter exhaled and closed his eyes. It was all too easy to imagine Neal dead in some foreign land.

"So, it seems that most of the FBI agents here think you're taking a job with us," Chuck commented, seeming to appear beside them.

"What?" Neal questioned in confusion.

"Yeah," Chuck said, nodding in the direction of the platter where Sarah was talking to Diana. "They think we're here because we want you working for us."

"To be fair, you did ask," Peter pointed out. Not only had Chuck asked him for permission to poach his partner but, Neal had also come to them 'to talk' when Chuck had asked.

"The answer's still 'no'," Neal said, just in case Chuck was about to ask again. Although he would love to work with his old friend, he knew that it wouldn't work well. Working with his ex-girlfriend and someone who hated him was a bad combination; Morgan could be most unpleasant if you crossed him.

"How's Sarah?" Peter asked, "any luck yet?"

Chuck's eyes sparkled even though his expression didn't change.

"No. But, we're not really trying." It had only been a week and three days ago that Sarah decided to stop using birth control to see what would happen. If she fell pregnant, she fell pregnant and, if not, they could talk about whether they really wanted to try in a few months time.

"Good luck, buddy," Neal said, raising his glass again. It was almost time for a refill.

* * *

Bryce watched as the local police arrested Mickaël Dufour. He would be on his way to the US where he could be held accountable for everything the CIA had on him. As he walked away, he noticed a hole in his trousers. Sighing, he poked his finger through it and thought of a time when he could have sent them to a tailor to be mended.

A time when he wore nice suits and was surrounded by people.

"Stop being sentimental," he quietly scolded himself, his voice providing a focus away from his thoughts, "and focus on the job." He went back to the safe house to change his clothes and his identity and then walked down to the dropbox where his next set of orders would be.

He found the box with his number on it and opened it, finding the familiar yellow envelope that held his orders. He took it out and started back down the street, taking a moment to enjoy the busy streets of Paris.

Then he walked back to his hotel room and opened the envelope. He read the page and read it again. And he read it another time just to be sure.

He was being sent to New York. There was a money laundering operation which the CIA believed was connected to an illegal weapons trading operation.

And that was all he would get to know until he returned to New York. There was a time and place listed where he would meet his partner and handler for the mission.

* * *

Bryce arrived in New York two days later and was sitting at the bench specified in the orders, in Central Park and at the time specified. He had headphones in his ears and tapped his foot nervously, as if he was tapping to the beat of a song. He bounced his head as well. Anything to redirect the nervous energy he was feeling. Unlike other missions, he had too many questions about this like. Like, how long would it be? Where the FBI also looking into it? And would there be time for him to drop in on old friends? He also wondered if it would be safe for him to stay at June's for the duration of the mission.

These were not questions his handler would answer. These were questions that he shouldn't ask.

Bryce sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I saw a mockingbird in the park," a voice droned from behind him.

He yelped.

"Peter?" he questioned, turning around to face his old FBI handler. It felt like ages since he saw anyone from Neal Caffrey's life and yet, it also felt like no time at all.

"Kieran today," Peter explained moving around to sit next to him. Bryce raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Mockingbirds?" he questioned with a smirk.

"Mozzie's suggestion," Kieran said with a shrug. "He's been driving me crazy with all his visits," he shook his head. "And I thought Neal was bad."

"Really?" Bryce questioned. He was surprised that Mozzie would continue to see Peter, 'the Suit'.

"El's okay with it, except when Mozzie starts talking about Neal. I probably shouldn't have told her why you went."

Bryce made a non-committal noise. He wouldn't have told Peter either, except he hadn't and Peter and found out anyway.

"So," Kieran said, pulling out an envelope and passing it to Bryce. "I put in at the CIA for a new partner."

Bryce opened the envelope and read the information inside. He would primarily be working with his established cover as Neal Caffrey to provide support to Agent Kieran Ryker in his cover as Peter Burke. They would also be teamed up for other missions and stapled to this was a copy of a request made for their presence in Burbank at a TBA date in nine or ten months to provide tactical support and extra security.

"Wow." It was all he could think of to say.

"'Wow'? That's it? All of Mozzie's bugging to find a way to get you back here and that's all you can say?"

"Seems like you'd need to take that up with Mozzie," Bryce responded with a smirk. He waved the file. "So, do I get any say in this?"

"Nope," Kieran joked. He then added, "seriously, if you don't want to-"

"That's not what I'm saying," Bryce interrupted with a glare, moving the files away form Kieran's reaching hand.

"Good, I was hoping you'd accept," Kieran said. Bryce gave him a curious look. "When I told her about this, El insisted on inviting June and Mozzie around for dinner. I really didn't want to go back without you."

Bryce looked down at his dark leather jacket, yellow shirt, dark pants and running shoes. The combination wasn't really expected of Neal Caffrey.

"Come on," Kieran said, slapping him lightly on the back. "There's still a few of Neal Caffrey's suits in the guest room at my place. If we leave now, you should have enough time to get changed."

Bryce couldn't help posing one more question about this arrangement as they walked back to Peter's car;

"Hey, since I'm your partner, does this mean I get complete access to 'Homestead'?"


End file.
